Gerrybag
by Mazza666
Summary: AH. Set in WW2 in Nazi-occupied Jersey. Sookie is a local girl and Eric is a German officer. Will Sookie be willing to sacrifice everything she believes and betray those she holds dear for her chance at real love? Secret romance, heaps of angst and Eric in uniform.
1. Chapter 1 Invasion

**A/N: So I had a little go at writing an AH story for the New Chapter contest. It was a little weird for me to step away from the supernatural elements of these characters, I have to admit, but I really enjoyed the challenge. So here we are: my idea for my first AH, multi-chapter story. I hope you like it.**

**The story is set during the Second World War in Jersey. Eric is an officer in the German army, Sookie is still originally from Bon Temps but lives in St. Helier, Jersey. To be clear, by Jersey I mean one of the Channel Islands, situated halfway between Britain and France, not New Jersey, the U.S. state where Tony Soprano lives! **

**For those of you who are unaware, the Channel Islands were the only part of the British Isles to be occupied by German forces during WW2. **

**So without further ado...**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

**_Gerrybag __(or Jerry-bag)_1**  
**_[jer-ee bag]_**

**_- noun British Slang_**

**_a local woman, during the Nazi occupation of the Channel Islands, who fraternised with German soldiers.  
[__Origin: 1940–45; appar. Jerry "German"]_**

**Sookie – June 1940**

We were hanging out the washing in the backyard when we heard the bombs.

My eyes followed the trail of smoke slicing through the cloudless sky, over the town and out towards the direction of the sea. They were targeting the harbour.

The sirens had been quite late today, almost an afterthought, which was strange. Since Paris had fallen to Hitler's troops just over a week ago, the whole island had been on edge, waiting, expecting that we would be next.

"Come on, Sookie," Amelia urged, dumping the basket of damp clothes to the ground and grabbing my hand. She pulled me towards the end of the garden and we leapt into the bomb shelter my Uncle Cope had dug out last year.

A few moments later, I heard my uncle and aunt calling out for us. We yelled to them that we were already in the shelter and heard them running our way. They bundled in, Bill a few steps behind, as Amelia fiddled with the wireless radio, trying to pick up the BBC broadcast above the din.

As always, Bill managed to sidle onto the wooden bench next to me, even though there was far more room on the side where my Auntie Evie was sat. Amelia's gaze flickered to me and she rolled her eyes. She wasn't a fan of Bill's at all.

I sighed. It wasn't that Bill Compton was a bad person, far from it in fact. He was kind, hard-working, and a very loyal to my uncle; he was just, well, a little dull. _Twenty-four going on sixty-__four_, Uncle Cope always used to say. But these days, in my home town of St. Helier, he was practically our most eligible bachelor.

That title used to belong to my brother Jason. With his all-American good looks, his ability to charm the hind legs off a donkey, and his Southern drawl (which only I could tell he exaggerated) Jason had had most of the girls in St. Helier in a frenzy ever since we arrived here from Louisiana all those years ago. Of course Jason, eager to teach Hitler a lesson, had enlisted in the Royal Navy the day Britain declared war on Germany. As far as I was aware, he was currently stationed somewhere around North Africa; I hadn't heard any news from him in three months.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sound of the planes. There was an acrid smell in the air, like burning gasoline and charred wood. I thought of Jason and prayed that he was safe, wherever he was. My brother was a testosterone-fuelled fool, but he was the only immediate family I had left after our parents died. I couldn't stand to lose him too.

I felt Bill's slightly clammy fingers snake around mine, pulling me out of my silent benediction.

"Don't be frightened, Sookie. It's going to be alright," he soothed.

He was trying to be nice but I felt myself bristle at his tone. For one, I wasn't exactly frightened. Concerned? Yes. Frightened? Not really. The attack seemed to be easing off and we were a couple of miles from the coast. And second of all, he didn't know it was going to be alright; none of us did. Since the British government had demilitarised the Channel Islands, deeming them too strategically unimportant to invest in their defence, we'd become a sitting target for the German army. No one, especially not Bill Compton, knew what was going to become of us.

"I know," I replied, faking a smile and gently pulling my hand away. "But this kind of thing always makes me think about Jason. I was just hoping he's okay, you know?"

Bill nodded sympathetically. "I wish I were out there with him," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Don't," I said, firmly. "I've had enough of that kind of bravado from Jason to last a lifetime."

"I just want you to know that if I'd been able to join—"

"I know you're not a coward, Bill," I replied, giving him a gentle tap on the arm. "To be honest, I'm glad you're here. Uncle Cope needs you here."

The siren sounded, indicating that the raid was over. I stood up, poking my head out into the sunlight. A tiny flake of ash settled on my shoulder and I studied it with a frown.

"I've got a feeling he'll need you more than ever soon enough," I added with a sigh.

0-0-0-0-0

The next day, I took the van down to Royal Square and parked up on the curb. A wooden crate in my arms, I backed into the swing door of the Dog & Bottle, pushing it open with my behind, and easing through.

"Sookie, here, let me help you with that." I heard Sam's voice behind me and whirled around to see him jogging towards me, arms outstretched.

"Thanks Sam," I smiled, handing him the box. "It's pretty heavy."

He nodded, carrying it over to the table and going through the contents: eggs mostly, some tomatoes and string beans, four punnets of strawberries and a large metal urn of fresh cream.

Sam snatched up a strawberry and let out a little groan of approval as he bit into it.

"Hey," I said, slapping him playfully on the arm. "Those are not for you."

"It's my pub. If I want to eat one, I'll eat one." He gave me a challenging smirk.

"Fine," I said, grabbing a large strawberry from the top of the pile with giggle. "Then I'm having one too."

Sam tried to snatch it from my hand, but I was too quick, popping it in my mouth before he could catch me.

I looked over to the bar, Pam was watching us with an amused smirk on her face. Arlene was stacking glasses next to her, her dyed red hair still in rollers under a patterned scarf.

"Good morning, Pam," I breezed. "Morning Arlene... Where's Barry?" I asked looking around me.

Sam sighed. "He's gone up to the cliffs to watch the planes. The Gerries are doing some kind of reconnaissance today."

I nodded in understanding; Barry had more reason to dread the Nazis coming than most. "But noone was killed though? During the attack I mean?" I asked, with a frown.

Sam shook his head and I gave him a relieved smile.

Pam interrupted us, cooing from across the bar. "You're very chirpy this morning, considering the harbour's just been blown to smithereens and the Gerries are on the doorstep. Could it be anything to do with sharing your bomb shelter with a certain dark-haired farmhand yesterday?"

I cursed internally. Bloody Amelia and her big mouth.

"What's this?" Sam asked with a frown, his eyes flitting between Pam and I.

Pam smiled smugly and I narrowed my eyes at her. I knew her plan had been to get a reaction out of Sam. She'd been going on for months now about how he had a thing for me. We were friends, sure, but I worked for him at the weekends and, anyway, he was too old for me. I mean he was too old to enlist even, and I wasn't even twenty-one until September.

"Don't listen to her," I replied, trying to remain impassive. "She's just teasing me about Bill when she knows full well that we are just friends."

"Much to his dismay," Pam quipped, raising an eyebrow.

I picked a strawberry out of the box and threw it at her, poking my tongue out. She ducked, laughing and swearing at me under her breath. A second later, the fruit was propelled back at me, hitting me square in in the shoulder, juice running down my chest. I retaliated, picking up a beer mat and lobbing it at Pam's head.

"You two need to stop," Arlene shouted, waving her hands in the air. "I've just cleaned this poxy bar and I'm not doing it again."

Pam and I stopped, looking contrite, like two schoolgirls being chastised by the principal. I wiped away the strawberry juice with the palm of my hand as Sam looked between us, bewildered.

"Sorry Arlene," we chorused.

"And you," Arlene turned to me, pointing at me with a bony finger. "You need to stop being so high and mighty, missy. You could do a lot worse than Bill Compton."

I rolled my eyes; she sounded like Auntie Evie.

"She could do a hell of a lot better too," Pam sneered. She was with Amelia on that one.

Arlene put her hand on her hip. "Well we all know he's not _your_ type, Pamela, but who else is out there for Sookie exactly?"

I sighed. Who indeed? I guess that was the burning question.

**Eric – July 1940**

We'd gone to the Channel Islands expecting a fight, but there wasn't one to be had. After a day of bombing the harbour and a couple of reconnaissance flights, our squadron was cleared to advance on St. Helier. We entered British territory without firing a shot, the people watching us nervously from windows as we marched into the town.

The High Command lauded it as a monumental victory of course, but the truth was, these people had been abandoned, left undefended. We'd been allowed in, practically handed the keys.

Tray and I, along with most of the other officers, spent the first couple of nights sleeping on the floor of the Town Hall. Still, we had it better than some of the rank and file, who were holed up in tents in and around the shoreline. We spent those early days searching the island, setting up communications, and generally consolidating our position. There were very few men still on Jersey, hardly any of fighting age, so any small pockets of resistance were put down quickly and without force.

On the third day of the occupation, Andre called me into his makeshift office.

I entered and saluted him, standing rigidly until Private Schmidt closed the door, leaving us alone.

Andre gestured to the seat opposite him and I slumped into it, pulling off my hat and chucking it on the desk between us. I hated that thing; it itched, especially when my hair was this short.

"So what's going on, Colonel?" I asked.

He ran a hand through his closely-cropped white-blond hair and shrugged. "Not fucking much frankly. We weren't expecting it to be any way near this easy. At this rate the Fuhrer will be fucking Eva Braun on the lawns of Buckingham Palace before the end of September."

I chuckled. "Rather him than me."

Andre's laugh mirrored mine, and then his expression changed, suddenly all business. "We're moving the invasion programme forward, instigating a series of billeting in homes around St. Helier. I can't have my officers sleeping in a drafty town hall for much longer or there'll be mutiny."

"I can't say I've been enjoying our current accommodations, but billeting?" I asked, with a sigh. "That never goes down well with the locals." The other alternative was forced labour to help us build the barracks. That didn't go down well either.

Andre smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He was ruthless, that's for sure, sometimes even a little cruel. His tight-lipped expression make me think briefly of the stories I'd heard about his treatment of women, too many of them to be made up. That said, the Colonel was known among the men to be a fair commander, they respected him, and I'd developed an easy rapport with him over the years. He was a friend of my father's so I'd known him since I was a child. That's why I was allowed this level of ease around him, when no one else was there to witness it.

Andre leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him. "It's true that the situation may require some... finesse... That's why I'm putting you in charge." The corners of his mouth tucked up into a triumphant smirk. "I thought you could use that infamous Northman charm to its best advantage, liaising with the locals. You can have Dauschen help you. He can speak passable English, can't he?"

I cursed under my breath. This was a shitty job and he knew it. I looked at him pleadingly, to no avail.

"Go and see, uhm... Caroline Bellefleur... at this address." He handed me a piece of paper with an address in St. Helier, without looking up, and was immediately rifling through papers, already onto the next order of business. "Frau Bellefleur has volunteered her grandson to be your guide to all the locals and their properties. She's an old battleaxe but she's not stupid. She came and found me, if you can believe that, and offered him up." He stood up, extending his arm towards the door, suddenly formal again. "I know I can rely on you, Major."

I stood, taking his cue. "Yes, sir," I agreed, saluting him again and making my way out into the sunlight.

Tray was waiting for me outside. "What did he want?" he enquired ebulliently, gesturing with his thumb back to Andre's office.

"He's put me in charge of the fucking billets," I grumbled, not stopping.

Tray let out a loud snort as he walked alongside me. "Well good luck with that," he jeered, slapping me on the back.

I had to grin at his cluelessness. Even if Andre hadn't suggested it, I still would have made Tray help me. "I won't need luck, Captain Dauschen, because you'll be assisting me every step of the way. Colonel's orders."

"Fuck," Tray cursed.

"Fuck indeed," I agreed with a wry smile.

0-0-0-0-0

Caroline Bellefleur was exactly as I expected her to be.

She wasted no time in informing me that her dead husband was once mayor of St. Helier and her late father before him. She clearly considered herself quite the Grand Dame of the town and, even if her grandson Andy lacked both the charisma and the intelligence to follow in the illustrious shoes of his ancestors, she wasn't going to let that scupper her plans for him.

Andrew Bellefleur himself seemed harmless enough. He was sufficiently self-aware to be a little embarrassed about collaborating with the occupying forces so soon after the invasion, but he was clearly far more scared of his grandmother than the reaction of his fellow townspeople. I could only hope the rest of St. Helier would be as accommodating as him.

We went through a list of the larger properties in the area. Bellefleur gave us some detail of the occupants so we could match them with appropriate officers. Tray could barely contain his smile when I picked the Broadway farm for the two of us. Apparently, Mr and Mrs Broadway had both their daughter and their niece living with them. Both girls were in their early twenties and, by Bellefleur's expression when he described them, it seemed the niece, especially, was something to look at.

When I'd dismissed Bellefleur, Tray sat back in his chair and chucked his feet up on the desk.

"Nice work, Major. We get the hot girls and, as an extra bonus, it's a farm, so there should be plenty of food." He rubbed his stomach and I rolled my eyes; Tray was built like a tank and always thinking about his next meal.

"Actually Captain Dauschen, I thought that as there were attractive, impressionable young ladies at the Broadway farm, it was my duty, as the officer in charge of this exercise, to ensure that they were not subjected to any lewd advances from the German officers. In the name of good relations with occupied islanders, you understand..." I countered with a smirk.

"Good relations is certainly one way to put it," Tray smirked.

I laughed. "Well, if we're going to be doing this God-awful job, we might as well get to reap the benefits."

Tray nodded, his chest rumbling with a deep chuckle. "Too fucking right. Hey, who'd you give Andre to?"

I couldn't suppress the smug smile that formed at my lips. "He's staying with old lady Bellefleur... And as it's such a big house, I've sent Sigebert and Wybert there with him."

Tray let out a raucous snort. "That'll make for some scintillating dinner conversation for the Colonel."

I chuckled. "I may get court-marshalled but it will definitely be worth it."

0-0-0-0-0

Tray and I packed up our stuff and headed over to the Broadway farm.

"This place is perfect." Tray was beaming, practically bouncing up the driveway. I rolled my eyes at him. He was a real country boy, having spent his childhood growing up on a farm in Bavaria.

He was right though; it was a pretty little farmhouse. It was probably a couple of hundred years old and in need of a coat of paint, but it had a huge amount of character. There was an orchard off to one side and some pretty rose bushes lining the path to the front door. I spotted an old Morris Minor van in the driveway and two bicycles were resting up against the fence. Elsewhere, every visible scrap of land was being utilised for vegetables, or fenced off for hens to roam.

I grinned at Tray. "I don't think there'll be a shortage of eggs for breakfast, anyway."

Tray rubbed his hands together with glee as we approached the front door. I pulled the old-fashioned ringer and waited expectantly, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

A man opened the door. He was of medium height, in his early fifties if I had to guess, with light brown hair and the kind of ruddy skin you get from years of working in the outdoors. His eyebrows knitted into a frown as he took us in.

I tried to flash him my warmest of smiles. "You must be Mr. Broadway. I am Major Eric Northman and this is Captain Tray Dauschen." Tray nodded his head politely. "I believe you were told to expect us?"

Broadway raised an eyebrow at me. "You speak English at least. I was wondering how that was going to work." He sighed, reluctantly opening the door a little wider. "Well, I suppose you should come in. I'll introduce you to everyone and then you can get settled."

I nodded, removing my hat as we followed him through the large hallway into the kitchen. He made his way over to a woman with a bright red apron wrapped around her waist; her sleeves were rolled up and she was kneading pastry with her hands. Tray was behind me but I could almost sense his eyes lighting up at the sight. The woman looked to be just a few years younger than Broadway and I assumed she was his wife. She was still fairly attractive with bright eyes and blonde hair which was starting to silver, tied up on her head in a loose top knot.

"Evie," Broadway said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "This is Major Eric Northman and Captain Tray... Dawson is it?"

"Dauschen," Tray corrected with a polite smile. "Pleased to meet you Mrs. Broadway."

She looked Tray up and down for a second and turned to her husband. "He can speak English?"

"It seems they both do," he confirmed motioning between us with his hand.

She pursed her lips, regarding us both carefully for a moment. It was immediately clear that she was the one who made the big decisions in this house and she was none too happy about having us here.

"That's something I suppose." She went over to the sink to wash her hands and looked back at us over her shoulder. "Well, they're here and there doesn't seem to be much we can do about it," she muttered with a resigned shrug, paying no mind to the fact that we could understand her. "You better call the girls in, Cope. I'll put the kettle on."

Broadway nodded. He indicated for us to take a seat at the kitchen table and then went off outside, through the side door. We sat there, awkwardly for a moment, while Mrs. Broadway busied herself boiling water for tea.

I attempted to break the silence. "Are those your roses out there Mrs. Broadway? They're very beautiful."

She eyed me suspiciously for a second, as if trying to work out whether it was a trick question. "No, they're all Sookie's work," she replied, after a moment. Sookie? Was she the daughter or the niece? I tried to think back to my discussions with Bellefleur but couldn't remember.

She turned her attention back to what she was doing, placing something that looked like a woolly hat over the teapot. Tray gave me a questioning look and I shrugged in response. Our silent conversation was interrupted by a lilting laugh approaching the house. Tray and I shifted around curiously, watching the rest of the family as they entered.

Broadway entered first, followed by the two girls and then a dark-haired man. My eyes skimmed over the first girl. She was pretty, in a gamine way, with dark eyes and her light brown hair twisted up underneath a navy-blue scarf. Her eyes scanned the pair of us brazenly, and I noticed her smirk and then poke her companion in the arm.

"Northman, Dauschen, this is my daughter Amelia..." We both stood up and nodded at her politely. "And this is Sookie Stackhouse, my niece."

As my eyes settled on Sookie Stackhouse, I knew for certain that Andrew Bellefleur was an utter moron. He'd said she was attractive; he hadn't said she was absolutely stunning. The first thing I noticed was her lovely blonde hair, almost the same colour as mine, tied up in a high ponytail and accentuating her elegant neck. Her face was beautiful, with high cheekbones, a pert little nose and soft, full lips. She was wearing a light blue summer dress that skimmed her curves perfectly, highlighting a tiny waist and a full, shapely bust. Her bright blue eyes flickered up to meet mine, for the merest of instants, and then they shot to the floor, a deep blush spreading across her lovely skin.

I felt Tray elbow me in the ribs. When I looked up, Broadway was regarding at me with a frown.

Shit. I'd been staring.

The farmer cleared his throat. "Like I was saying, this is William Compton. He works on the farm and lives in the cottage to the east of the property."

I looked to Compton, ready to give him my signature polite smile, but he was glaring at me with such undiluted hatred that I felt myself smirk, just a little. I didn't think it was patriotism that had him all hot and bothered; I'd made the niece blush and he had noticed.

"Right, well," Broadway looked between us both. "Let's show you to your rooms, shall we?"

He led us upstairs, unfortunately leaving the girls down in the kitchen. The ceiling was lower on the second floor and Tray and I ducked our heads slightly, avoiding the beams. When we got to the landing, Broadway paused, fixing Tray and I with a hardened stare.

"Look I'm going to say this once and then I don't want to have to talk about it again. You Gerries are the occupiers, we're the occupied masses, so to a certain extent, you're in charge. I know that. I don't like it but I accept it... But my girls are good girls. They've lived a safe, sheltered existence and I don't want the likes of you German officers coming into my house and turning their heads."

I tried to suppress a smile. His girls may have lived a sheltered existence, but I knew women, and I'd bet a month's supply of cigarettes that his darling Amelia wasn't quite as innocent as her father believed. I gave Broadway a solemn nod all the same and tried not to think of all the ways I'd love to corrupt his niece.

"Believe me sir, even if we weren't perfect gentlemen, which I promise you we are, our commanding officer is of a similar disposition to you when it comes to his forces fraternising with local girls. We'd get into a great deal of trouble if you reported us."

Broadway gave me a knowing smile, and for the first time I saw in him the man he was, rather than the man behind the wife.

"Oh I won't report you," he advised us, eyebrow raised in challenge. "I'll just kill you in your sleep if I find out you laid one finger on either of them. I have pigs. They eat anything, even bone... Are we clear?"

Tray and I looked at each other and then back at Copley Broadway. The man knew how to get his point across. We both nodded, warily.

"Okay, glad that's settled." He flashed us a victorious smile. "Dawson, you're in that room there." He pointed to a door down a short corridor. Tray didn't bother correcting his name and went inside to look around. "And Northman, you're in that room across there."

He hovered for a second, watching me as I made my way along the hall. "Well, I'll let you both freshen up. Bathroom's down the hall on the left. There's another one outside that we also use in the summer. Dinner is served at six and if you want to remain in Mrs. Broadway's good graces, I'd be on time."

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it. He nodded and headed downstairs.

I entered my new room and looked around me, taking it all in. It was a clean but fairly modest space with a single bed in the middle of the room, covered in an old patchwork quilt. There was a low table next to the bed and a small, painted wardrobe up against one wall. The walls were papered in a feminine floral pattern and a large bowl of yellow roses sat cheerfully on the window sill.

I laid my bag down at the foot of the bed and took out the photograph of Sophie-Anne from the inside pocket of my jacket. I didn't look at it, putting face down on the table, telling myself that I didn't need any more reminders of home. With a sigh I eased off my boots, kicking them under the bed. I shrugged off my jacket, chucked my hat on the side table, and sunk back on the bed. My feet hung over the end of the mattress and it was a little soft for my tastes, but compared to a stone floor, it felt like heaven. I was beginning to feel my eyelids grow heavy when I heard a tentative knock at the door.

I sat up on the bed, slightly dazed, and heard the knock again.

"Major Northman." Someone, a woman, was whispering from the other side of the door. "Sorry to disturb you..."

I pulled myself up on the bed, grabbing the photo and stuffing it into my kit bag, and then opened the door. Sookie was standing on the other side of the doorway and her cheeks flushed crimson as soon as I set eyes on her. I couldn't stifle my grin; she was adorable.

"I'm sorry Major Northman," she said, looking at me nervously. Her voice was soft and melodious, but her accent was totally different from the Broadways', I noticed. "I-I left something in my room."

_Her_ room? I smiled at her, wanting to put her at ease. "No problem at all, Sookie. Please come in and get it."

Her eyes met mine, shyly, and she nodded making her way across the small space. I sat on the bed and watched her as she crouched down and opened the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe.

"If this is your room, where will you be sleeping?"

She raised an eyebrow at me, giving me a pointed look.

I smiled; she was feisty too. "I didn't mean it like that," I corrected, even though I had a little. "What I mean is that, um, I don't want to put you out."

Her nose wrinkled into a small frown. "The German army has invaded Jersey, you Gerries bombed the harbour and now you and your cohorts are imposing yourselves on families all over St. Helier. In the great scheme of things, I don't think having to share a bed with Amelia is that big of a deal, do you?" she replied sharply, turning back to the wardrobe.

"I suppose not..." I sat there awkwardly for a second as she rifled through the drawer. "Er, you're not from round here, are you?" I asked, trying to placate her. "Jersey, I mean?"

She stopped what she was doing and turned to face me.

"Not originally, no," she replied after a moment, as if considering how to answer. "I was born in Louisiana, in the United States. I came here to live with my aunt and uncle when I was twelve."

"America? My mother grew up in the States... Chicago."

She cocked her head to one side, regarding me with curiosity. "That's why your English is so good."

It wasn't a question but I treated it as one.

"I guess so," I replied with a smile. "We always spoke English at home, so it's easy for me. Dauschen learnt most of his from American movies. He's obsessed."

"I like the movies too." I felt myself melt a little as she flashed me a bright smile before turning back to the task at hand, scooping up some books from the drawer. She stood up, cradling the battered paperbacks in her arms.

"That looks like some very highbrow reading material you have there," I teased.

"I like romance," she admitted with an embarrassed shrug. "There's not much of it going on around here. I suppose it helps me escape."

"I like romance too," I joked, flirting a little, testing how she'd respond.

Her eyes shot to mine and she blushed again. I liked it when she did that a little too much.

"I should go," she said nervously, chewing on her lip, but her eyes never left me.

I nodded, giving her one last smile. "I'll see you at dinner."

She slipped out of the room, nudging the door closed behind her. I laid back on the bed, _her_ bed, and breathed in her scent which still filled the room. Exhaling heavily, I let out a small groan as my eyes fell on the roses by my window.

Four days in St. Helier and I was already in so much trouble.

**A/N: So please let me know what you think? Do you like the concept? **

**Also, I've tried to do my research, but if you're from the Channel Islands, Germany, or indeed anywhere and have a perspective on my fictitious portrayal of the facts, then I'd love to hear from you. **


	2. Chapter 2 Occupation

**A/N: Aaah, you guys! Thank you so much for your feedback on the first chapter and for adding me to your favourites and alerts. I'm thrilled that you like the concept.**

**A few of you have some qualms about Eric being a German officer, which of course I understand, but I'm hoping that you'll trust me. I would point out that there was a big difference between being in the German army (which most German men were) and being a concentration camp guard or in the SS. I'm hoping that as I develop his character over the coming chapters that I'll put your minds at ease.**

**As this is a fictitious story based on a true event, some of the themes that I'll brush upon were extremely real for a lot of people and truly awful for some. I'm trying to deal with this as sensitively as possible within the confines of what is essentially a love story but please do PM me, if you have any questions or concerns.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

**_"Angry men with pointy things sent to secure a foreign city are pretty much alike anywhere. That's what I've heard. So far nothing's convinced me different." _**_**— Sherwood Smith **_

**Eric – September 1940**

Things on Jersey had fallen into a fairly regular pattern.

The local populace weren't exactly happy to see us here, but, at the same time, we encountered very little outright hostility. There seemed to be some sort of very amateur "resistance" movement in place but, to date, all they'd managed to accomplish was letting the air out of the tyres of a couple of our trucks. A few anti-Hitler posters had also sprung up in the dead of night, and of course no one questioned knew where they had come from, but they were taken down quickly and were nothing more than a slight nuisance to the occupying forces. Camps were being built on the nearby island of Aldernay but, so far, Andre had only sent a few people there: a few stranded servicemen and one man caught sending reports to the British mainland.

Things at the Broadway farm had also settled somewhat. The family had been wary at first, but Copley Broadway had become much more cordial as the weeks wore on and his wife Evie no longer looked at Tray and I as if we were something stuck to her shoe. We had dinner with them most nights and Tray had worn the woman down with his unrelenting enthusiasm for her cooking. Bill Compton continued with his thinly-veiled air of hostility but, when he did talk his conversation was so dreary, I felt grateful that he was mostly monosyllabic when required to talk to us.

I found myself really liking Amelia, and I noticed Tray sat a up little straighter whenever she entered the room. While Sookie was demure and reserved, Amelia was raucous and loud and kept us entertained, refusing to hush up and act like a lady as her mother constantly urged. I found myself liking her all the more for the fact that she so often made her cousin laugh, the sound of which I could listen to all day long.

I'd tried to hide my growing attraction to Sookie over the last couple of months, lest I wake up one morning to find Copley Broadway's air rifle aimed at my genitals, but on more than one occasion Tray had had to nudge me for staring. When we were alone, he was constantly teasing me and making not-so-subtle jokes. I'd fend him off, act nonchalant, envoke Sophie-Anne's name as a defensive talisman, but, in truth, living with Sookie Stackhouse was like a kind of blissful torture. The way she bit her lip when she got nervous, the little mewling noises she made when she ate something delicious, the way she moved, all these things seemed sent to test my self-control. It became my life's aim to make her blush, just so that I could see the colour spread across her beautiful skin.

Sometimes I'd lie in my bed and hear her in the bathroom down the hall. I'd imagine her in there, in the bath, running a wash cloth over those glorious breasts, and I'd be hard for hours. I'd taken to envisaging a naked Caroline Bellefleur more times than I'd care to admit, a teenage panacea to will away the constant erections that plagued me whenever Sookie was in the vicinity.

In short, I was getting a little obsessed.

0-0-0-0-0

I came down for breakfast one morning to find Sookie strutting about in the kitchen while Amelia and Evie looked on, clapping enthusiastically. I watched her for a moment from the doorway; she looked so beautiful, so care-free, as she posed, modelling a new hat, and then giggled at her own silliness. As if feeling my gaze, she looked up and caught my eye, immediately flushing crimson as she realised that I had been watching her. Evie and Amelia both noticed her reaction and whirled around to face me.

"Good morning." I addressed the room, hands in my pockets, attempting at casual.

"Major Northman," Evie Broadway replied rigidly, drowning out the less formal replies of her daughter and her niece. "There's fresh tea in the pot."

If I were honest, I wasn't particularly keen on English tea, especially when laced with copious amounts of cream and sugar, but I drank it anyway. Everything that happened at the farm coincided with a cup of tea. We were constantly walking a very fine line with the Broadways, and Tray and I didn't need to come across any more alien than we already did.

"Thank you, Mrs Broadway," I replied politely, fixing myself a cup. "And please call me Eric." She never would, of course, but it was almost like a ritual between us now: me asking her to use my first name, her wilfully ignoring me. I looked over to Sookie who was watching the exchange with a small smile. "Nice hat by the way," I said with a grin, before taking a sip of tea.

"Thank you." She returned my smile for the merest of moments. The hat was emerald green with a fanned front that swept coquettishly over one eye. She held it out in front of her and examined it with pride. "It was a present from my aunt and uncle."

I glanced over to the kitchen table and there were a number of other presents there, one or two still unwrapped.

"It's your birthday?" I asked, understanding suddenly dawning.

She nodded, flashing me another stunning smile. "Twenty-one today."

"Happy birthday, Sookie." I had to force a smile of my own. I hadn't known it was her birthday, of course, I couldn't have, but it bothered me all the same.

"Thank you." She nodded at me before Amelia grabbed her arm, leading her over to the table.

"Open the one from Pam," Amelia urged, thrusting a small rectangular package into Sookie's lap.

Sookie laughed. "Okay, Ames. Give me a chance."

Picking up the present, she gave it a little shake, attempting to guess what was inside. She proceeded to unwrap the package carefully, as if trying to preserve the paper, and let out a little giggle when she saw discovered the contents.

"What is it Sookie?" Mrs Broadway asked, craning her neck to see from the other side of the kitchen counter.

Sookie's eyes flashed to me self-consciously for just a moment and then she stuck her chin out a little, as if summoning up some courage. "Nylons," she announced, a little shakily. "They're from Paris."

Of course I immediately imagined her sliding them onto her shapely legs, clicking them into place on her garter belt. I shifted uncomfortably, glad I was on the other side of the kitchen, and tried desperately to conjure up a picture of old lady Bellefleur in French nylons instead.

As if she could read my mind, Evie Broadway regarded me with a disapproving frown. I looked away, studiously examining the contents of my tea cup.

"Well," she sighed after a minute. "That's Pam for you, I suppose."

The girls both laughed. "It sure is," Amelia grinned.

"And don't forget to thank Bill for his lovely flowers, will you?" Evie chided, gesturing to a large dairy mug filled with drab-looking blooms.

I noted Amelia roll her eyes. I couldn't suppress a smile; she thought he was a dullard too. Good to know.

"Yes, Auntie Evie," Sookie replied dutifully as she reached for her final present.

I was starting to feel like a voyeur, but I couldn't summon the resolve to leave. I wanted to be here, to watch her.

"Who's that one from, Sook?" Amelia peered meddlesomely over her cousin's shoulder.

"Sam." Sookie blushed again but, this time, I felt my brow wrinkle in response.

I heard Evie mumble something under her breath that sounded distinctly like _"too old". _Sookie ignored her and opened the small parcel with the same neat determinism as before.

"It's a picture frame," she said quietly, examining it pensively as her mouth tucked up into a small smile. "Oh, it's lovely."

"He made it himself?" Amelia asked, pulling it out of Sookie's hand and casting a critical eye over it. Sookie nodded shyly. "It's really nice," Amelia surmised, as I felt my blood begin to simmer. "Pam must be right..."

Sookie glanced up at me, uneasily, and I held her gaze, almost as a challenge.

"Well that's very nice, I'm sure." Evie rattled some plates out of the cupboard, pulling us out of the moment. "Time for some breakfast. And Sookie, make sure you don't forget to thank Bill."

0-0-0-0-0

"Can you move it to the left a bit?" Tray's cigarette hung from his lip as he bent over his motorcycle.

"I didn't sign up for this," I complained as I shifted my crouching position, flashing the light on his motorbike as he tinkered with the rear suspension. Tray was an excellent mechanic; he'd started fixing up tractors and other machinery on his parents' farm but now he was the go-to guy in our regiment if you needed any kind of machinery fixing. What this had to do with me however, and why it required me to be out in the Broadways' driveway at near midnight on a Saturday, I wasn't sure.

"Quit complaining, Northman. It's not like you've got anything better to do."

I sighed, lighting up a cigarette of my own; he was certainly right about that.

I was halfway through a second Atikah when I heard the sound of bicycle tyres over the gravel. I stood up, taking Tray's light with me.

"Hey!" Tray grumbled.

"Sookie and Amelia are home," I muttered, smoothing down my uniform.

I flashed the beam in the girls' direction as they cycled up the pathway towards the farm.

Amelia approached us, still on her bike. "Officers... What are you up to Dawson?"

She'd taken to calling him Dawson, just like her father. I found it pretty amusing. Strangely, when Amelia did it, Tray didn't seem to mind.

"The suspension's gone," Tray explained, with a wave of his spanner. "My motorbike is not used to the country roads I guess. A little like Northman here."

Amelia looked over to me, face alight with curiosity. "You a city boy then, Major?"

Sookie rode over to the fence and dismounted elegantly from her bike. She tilted her head to one side, watching our interaction with interest.

"Berlin," I admitted with a half-smile. "I'm not sure I'd even seen a cow until we came here," I joked. In truth, my family had a large estate in the countryside outside Mainz and I spent my summers there as a child, but something told me Sookie wouldn't approve of me boasting of the fact.

Amelia snorted. "Well you're certainly making up for it now. Nothing here but cows and bloody chickens... Hey, could I have one of those?" She gestured to my cigarette.

I smiled at her brashness. Amelia didn't treat Dawson and I with the same suspicious caution as her parents. It made me like her more.

"Sure." I offered her one from my packet and lit it for her. I looked over to Sookie. "Would you like one too, Sookie?"

She smiled shyly. "Thank you, but no. My brother and I stole one of my father's Luckys when I was ten and I was sick as a dog for hours. I've never been tempted since."

"Well that would do it," I agreed with a smile, stubbing mine out on the ground.

She laughed. "Yes it would..." She looked over to see Amelia deep in conversation with Tray. "I should be getting in," she added, a little hesitantly.

"I'll come with you," I suggested.

She shrugged non-committally and started to head towards the house.

"So how was work?" I asked.

Her features clouded with a little frown and I could tell she was wondering whether she should engage in a conversation with me. "Busy," she finally answered with a sigh. "Saturday nights always are."

"Do you enjoy it? At the pub?" I asked, trying to make small-talk.

"I guess so." She pursed her lips pensively. I had noticed she did this a lot. She was really quite smart and always took her time to give considered answers, to even the most casual questions. "Well, I like working with Amelia and Pam, and Sam's a really great boss..." I tried not to growl when I heard his name again. "They had a cake for me tonight. It was fun..."

"But?" I prompted as we approached the front door to the farmhouse.

She gave me a half-smile. "Well, working in a pub is not exactly my life's ambition... and I could certainly do without the sore feet and coming home smelling like a brewery every weekend..."

I leaned over slowly, unable to stop myself, so that I was inches from her hair, and inhaled softly. I could smell roses and something else, something uniquely her.

"You still smell delicious to me," I murmured.

She took a step back, as if I'd startled her. "Um, thank you... I... I should really get to bed." She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it down reflexively. "Good night, Major."

I grabbed her hand gently. "Sookie, before you go, there's something I wanted to give you..." She froze, eyeing me warily. I raised my other hand in a calming motion. "Please," I urged. "Just wait here a second?"

She nodded hesitantly and I released her to head upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. I bounded into my bedroom to retrieve the package and leapt down the stairs again, as quickly and as quietly as I could.

I held it out to her. "Happy birthday, Sookie."

Her eyes widened with surprise and she let out a little gasp. "You bought me a present?" she asked.

I shrugged, still proffering the package, starting to feel a little self-conscious. "It's only small, I'm afraid."

"Major Northman," she said, hesitantly. "I'm really not sure—"

"Please call me Eric, and please take it," I insisted as her eyes caught mine. I smiled at her, holding out the present, my stomach suddenly in knots.

She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, trying to come to a decision. My expression turned to pleading as the seconds passed and I felt my confidence begin to evaporate. Finally, she omitted a small sigh and shook her head. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't."

I felt something twist inside me, anger suddenly flaring up, trying to compensate for the feeling of rejection that was almost overwhelming me. "You mean you _won't_," I snapped.

Sookie took a step back, her face full of shock at my tone. "No, I mean I _can't_," she repeated firmly. Her eyes began to well up and she looked away, blinking them back. "I'm sorry. I should go..."

Inside I felt like an asshole for upsetting her, but outwardly I couldn't seem to suppress my bitterness. I grabbed her arm, refusing to let her leave."Why not?" I asked petulantly. "You can accept gifts from Sam and Bill..."

She flinched, pulling her arm away, her eyes meeting mine. "You _know_ why," she whispered.

I stared at her, my mouth set in a grim line, refusing to agree. Finally, she gave her head a little shake and made her way up the stairs, leaving me standing in the hallway in the dark, the present I bought her still in my hands.

**Sookie – September 1940**

After the immediate furore of the German invasion, things began to settle on the island. The occupying army were a highly visible presence, there being almost one German soldier for every two locals, but for the most part we existed fairly peaceably, if somewhat warily, alongside them.

I'd heard that a number of servicemen who had been visiting family at the time of the invasion had been rounded up here and on Guernsey and sent to a prisoner of war camp on Aldernay, but no one I knew well had been affected. Closer to home, Barry had been required to register as a Jew. Uncle Cope's friends, Stan and Isabel Davidowitz, who owned the general store on King Street had also registered and been told to hand over administration of their shop to the Nazis. I knew Barry was worried that the Nazis were going to introduce further measures. I tried my best to reassure him but, secretly, I was scared for them all.

It was becoming increasingly hard to reconcile such ugliness with my day-to-day interactions with Eric and Tray, both of whom seemed like genuinely decent people. At first having the officers at the farm had made us all a little anxious, like we were being watched from within. Over time, however, even Auntie Evie had learned to relax a little around them, although she never quite let her guard down. Tray was just such an affable guy; he loved Auntie Evie's cooking and was always bringing home extra army rations for my aunt to use in her recipes. Eric was more outwardly controlled, more cerebral, but he larked about and even flirted a little when my aunt and uncle weren't around.

Eric also seemed to be developing a tentative friendship with Uncle Cope. You'd see them every now and again smoking his German cigarettes out in the yard, discussing football and life before the war. Uncle Cope despised Hitler, he always had, even before the war and he had fought against the Germans in the Great War, as had my father. Yet, strangely, he, more than anyone, seemed to accept that Eric and Tray were here to do their duty.

I had hardly seen Eric at all in the week after my birthday. He made his excuses to Auntie Evie about dinner, citing orders from his superior officer, but I knew that he was avoiding me. I spent the entire week simultaneously wracked with guilt for being so rude and angry at Eric for putting me in such a position. I wasn't sure what he was expecting from me but the fact was that we weren't friends, nor could we ever be.

On the Saturday night, I went to work as usual. I worked the late shift with Pam and Barry, as Amelia was at home with a bad cold. The pub had been packed out all night, as it usually was on the last weekend in the month, and the time had flown by. Sam kicked the last of the customers out just after eleven and I helped Barry collect the leftover glasses and empty the ashtrays.

"You don't have to do that," Barry said with a smile.

"I don't mind," I assured him. "The quicker it's done, the quicker we can both get out of here. Anyway, I was hoping you wouldn't mind walking me home..."

Barry laughed, quirking his eyebrow at me. "Ah, so actually the selfless gesture was in a fact a bribe..."

I scrunched up my nose a little and shrugged. "Um... yep?"

"Why don't you ask Sam to walk you home?" he teased.

"Barry! Not you too." I managed to raise my voice by an octave and hush my tone at the same time. "You've been spending too much time with Pam."

"She puts forward a compelling case..." His chocolate eyes were sparkling with amusement and I had to resist the temptation to hit him with my ashtray.

I rolled my eyes. "So are you gonna walk me home or not?"

He gave me a little snort. "When have I ever been able to refuse you anything?"

0-0-0-0-0

Barry and I walked tentatively along the path in the dark as he wheeled my bike alongside us.

"So Amelia's still feeling rough?" he asked.

"She'll survive but I do feel sorry for her. It's not so great when you've got strangers in your house and you just want to be ill..." I laughed. "She's got a bright red nose and she doesn't smell too good either."

"I'm sure it won't stop her flirting," Barry suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably not," I agreed with a chuckle. "Honestly with her and Jason, you'd think I was adopted or something."

"Hardly, you just don't have to work for it. Half the town's madly in love with you and you don't even notice..."

I felt myself turn scarlet at the suggestion. "Barry, that's one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard you say and, frankly, there's a pretty long list."

"Oh pur-lease, you know full well—" The rumble of a truck caused Barry to stop what he was saying as we both moved to the side of the road, single file, to let it past.

Barry shot a glance over his shoulder. "It's a Gerry truck," he observed quietly and I felt my heart-rate increase in response.

Barry immediately modified his body language, trying to seem inconspicuos, to melt into the bushes. I tried to follow suit as the truck approached, slowing down as it saw us. I counted four soldiers out of the corner of my eye, they were laughing raucously, yelling at each other in machine-gun German.

I kept my eyes on the ground as the truck almost stopped beside us. I could feel the heat of four pairs of eyes as they scanned my body and I could sense Barry stiffen in front of me.

"Hello pretty..." One of the soldiers called out to me in heavily accented German. I ignored him, continuing to walk slowly, avoiding eye contact.

"Pretty girl," he called out, louder this time and a little more aggressively.

Barry stopped rigidly ahead of me and I felt myself begin to panic. "Keep walking," I hissed, catching him up. "They'll get bored in a second."

A moment passed and I let out a relieved breath as Barry started to walk again, the truck still ambling along beside us, the drum of the engine keeping in time with my shallow breathing.

"Hey!" the soldier shouted this time, not giving up, chucking an empty beer bottle onto the ground at my feet. I felt myself squeal at the noise as the glass shattered against the road, the soldiers laughing at my reaction.

"That's it," Barry muttered, stopping dead and turning to face the truck, glaring at the soldiers inside. "Fucking Nazis."

"Barry, no! Leave it alone," I pleaded. I appreciated the sentiment but there were four of them, and once they found out he was Jewish... I didn't want to think about it.

The truck came to a stop and the driver turned off the engine. I felt my heart stop as the door opened and two soldiers stepped down from the back. The first soldier was about Barry's height, whippet thin with cold dark eyes, his hair cut severely against his scalp. The second was a giant of a man, at least six and a half feet with huge shoulders and hands. His strawberry blonde hair framed his large boyish features as he stalked towards us.

I kept my eyes low as they approached us, the smell of stale beer instantly perceptible. I couldn't understand what they were saying but the way they were leering at me was all too clear.

With a cruel laugh, the giant pushed Barry roughly, causing him to stumble backwards, dropping the bike. The other soldier grabbed my arm, pulling me towards him.

"I say _hello pretty_," he repeated, grabbing me by the chin and forcing me to look at him. His dark eyes raked over me, a thin smile forming at his lips as he enjoyed my fear.

"Let go of her, you bastard." Barry grabbed the soldier's arm, pulling him away from me, as the other one lunged for Barry, punching him square in the stomach. Barry cried out, winded and in pain. A third man got out of the car, leaving only the driver. My breath caught as I took him, seemingly the twin of the big blond one. He joined his brother, letting out a few German expletives before catching Barry in the jaw with his huge fist.

I cried out, trying to stop them, pulling at the soldier's jacket, as Barry crumpled to the ground. I crouched down beside him, trying to help him to his feet. "Please. Don't," I pleaded, tears blurring my eyes, holding my palm up in front of me. "Please," I begged.

Suddenly, I heard the buzz of a motorcycle approach, drowning out our interraction. The soldiers' laughter stilled as the bike's headlights illuminated the road beside us, causing me to shield my eyes with my hand. My stomach sank as I made out the uniform in the dark, realising it was another German soldier, but our attackers instantly stood back, their body language stiffening. I wrapped my arm around Barry's waist pulling him up as the motorcycle engine cut out. He leaned on my shoulders, standing up with a groan.

I watched the soldier dismount, shouting in our direction in angry German. My eyes shot in his direction as I recognised the voice, my shoulders sagging with relief as he removed his helmet.

It was Eric.

0-0-0-0-0

"What is going on here?" Eric asked. His tone was cold and formal, giving no sign that he knew me.

"We were on our way home and these animals started harrassing us," Barry spat, rubbing his jaw.

Eric's eyes shot to meet mine and I saw him frown as he took in my tear-stained cheeks.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, suppressing tightly-controlled anger, and I could sense his subordinates tensing up beside me.

I nodded slowly as his deep cobalt eyes locked with mine, the intensity of his gaze causing me to look down at me feet. "I just want to go home," I mumbled.

He gave me a nod of confirmation, turning to the soldiers and barking orders at them in his native tongue. One of the twins tried to say something but Eric cut him off, shouting orders at them in a tone that promised that he would deal with them later. The driver called out nervously to his cohorts and they scrambled back into the truck, saluting but saying nothing, before driving away.

Eric approached me, his boots crunching over the broken glass as I began to break down, shaking as the adrenaline left my system. Barry put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest, and I sobbed into his shirt as he soothed me.

I pulled away after a moment, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Eric was watching me, his face full of concern. I nodded, letting him know I was going to be okay, and he turned to address Barry.

"Can you ride her bike home?" he asked. "I will take Sookie to the Broadway Farm on my motorcycle."

I looked up at him. "Major, those men—"

"They won't be any further trouble. I guarantee that," he said grimly. "Your friend will be safe."

"They can't be allowed to get away with that," Barry spat. I could feel the anger coming off him in waves. He was angry a lot these days, angry and scared.

Eric fixed Barry with a steely gaze, as my friend stiffened, dropping his arm from my shoulder. "I assure you there will be consequences for their behaviour tonight. Severe consequences," he growled.

I turned to Barry, putting my hand on his arm, placating him. "It's alright. Major Northman will deal with it. It's been a long night, Barry... Let's just go home okay?"

Barry looked between us for a second and nodded. "You'll be alright?" he asked, his brow wrinkled with concern.

"Yes," I whispered, pulling him into a hug. "You?"

He touched his face tentatively and nodded. "I'm not sure I'm going to get any prettier, though. Probably for the best."

I smiled at him. "You were very brave tonight."

Barry let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled away. "Fat lot of good it did us." He ran his hand through his dark hair before giving me a half smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

I smiled, picking up my bike and handing it to him. "I'm in at four. See you then."

"Night Sook," he replied, giving me one last crooked smile, before mounting the bike and riding back towards town.

0-0-0-0-0

Wordlessly, Eric handed me his helmet and I put it on, fastening it under my chin.

He swung his leg over the bike, scooting forward to make room for me as I attempted to get on it as gracefully as possible. In the end, I hitched up my skirt around my thighs. I smiled to myself; Auntie Evie would be horrified.

"Put your arms around my waist," Eric instructed as he started the engine.

I hesitated for a second before wrapping my arms around his torso, the inside of my thighs brushing against him as I gripped the bike. I leaned forward, my cheek against his shoulder blades and I felt his hard body stiffen slightly as I did so. He muttered something to himself in German, expelling a deep breath and then his body relaxed. The bike pulled away with a roar, the wind whipping through my hair as I held Eric tighter, breathing in his fresh scent, unable to hear anything but the wind and my thundering pulse.

I felt a slight pang of disappointment as we pulled up at the farm. Eric waited for me to get off the bike and then slid off gracefully, pushing the stand down with his boot. I took off his helmet, smoothing down my hair self-consciously with my free hand.

"Thank you," I whispered, staring at the hat in my hands, suddenly unable to make eye contact.

"You don't have to thank me, Sookie." He used the tip of his finger to lift my chin, so that my eyes met his, his gaze almost burning through me. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that... I promise I'll see to it that they are dealt with—"

My voice caught a little, as my throat thickened with emotion, and I looked away. "You didn't have to help us... I know that." I tried not to think about what would have happened if he hadn't come along when he did.

He frowned for a second and then nodded. "Yes. Yes I did."

Eric reached out for the helmet and I handed it to him, my fingertips briefly brushing against his.

"Well, good night," he murmured.

I nodded and watched him as he turned to make his way into the house.

"Eric." I called after him, unable to stop myself. He stopped still in his tracks and then turned around slowly, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. I took a deep breath, not certain if I was doing the right thing. "If the offer still stands I would like to accept the birthday present you wanted to give to me... I'm sorry, it was rude of me to refuse your gift like I did."

Eric's face lit up like a kid at Christmas and I realised then how incredibly gorgeous he was. He was always handsome, of course, noone could miss that, but he suddenly looked younger, more care-free than I'd ever seen him. He flashed me a winning smile, causing my cheeks to warm in response.

"Of course," he replied. "I would like that... I still have it."

He held out his hand in a gesture telling me to 'wait there' and bounded into the house. I followed him inside and he was back, seconds later, stood, yet again, at the foot of the stairs, holding the package out in front of him.

"Thank you," I whispered, reaching tentatively for the present. I noticed the wrapping was less pristine than last week, rumpled in one of the corners.

"Open it," he pressed, giving me an encouraging smile.

I nodded, opening the paper carefully, my fingers trembling slightly as I undid the red ribbon. I examined my gift and then looked at him with a huge smile. It was perfect.

"Oh my, I haven't read this one," I said, as my eyes skimmed eagerly over the back cover of _The Warrior and the Wench_. "Thank you so much."

I noticed Eric's shoulders sag with relief. "You're welcome. The man in the bookshop on King Street told me it was a good one. I read a few pages before I wrapped it... It was a little steamy," he teased, arching his eyebrow questioningly.

I looked at him incredulously for a moment. "You bought this from Calvin Norris?" I giggled.

"Ye-es," he replied, slightly bemused.

"It's just that he was talking about it in the pub last week, about how 'one of the Gerries' bought a girl's book." I couldn't help but laugh as Eric's face settled into a confused frown. "Poor Calvin was really baffled. I had no idea that it would be you."

"Well I'm glad I amuse you," he said, a little petulantly.

I stopped laughing, wanting to kick myself for offending him when he'd been so nice. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean—"

"No," he said, reaching out for my hand. He gave me a half-smile of reassurance. "I'm sorry. I'm being an idiot."

His fingers brushed against my palm for the briefest second and I felt something unspoken course between us. I took a step away, back towards the stairs, breaking contact, feeling unsure of what to do next.

"That's not true at all," I whispered, glancing at him nervously.

The slight wrinkle of a frown suddenly danced across his brow and I took that as my cue.

"Well I really, really should get to bed...Good night Eric. Thank you again for the present... And for earlier."

The smallest flash of disappointment crossed his features and then cleared just as suddenly, as he nodded in acceptance. "Good night, Sookie... I'll see you in the morning."

**A/N: As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts...**


	3. Chapter 3 Advance

**A/N: I can't thank you all enough for the support you've given this story so far. Thanks so much for all your reviews. I've also had more PMs for two chapters of this story than for pretty much all of the rest of my fics put together. Some of you have been kind enough to give me your thoughts and insight into the history and ideology behind this story. I'm thrilled that it's capturing people's interest.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. **

"_**Behold the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out." James Bryant Conant**_

**Eric - October 1940**

"There's been three more instances reported on the road out of town. I want you to have those signs scrubbed and repainted by sundown."

Sigebert glowered at me, but knew better than to question my orders. I could tell he thought that I should cut him and his brother some slack, that my relationship with Sophie-Anne should somehow give them a free pass; I returned his glare, making it abundantly clear that that would not be the case.

He was lucky that he and his cohorts were only on two months' half pay and resistance clean-up duty after the stunt they pulled with Sookie and her friend. I would have had them court-marshalled but Andre had instead put it down to "drunken hijinks". It wasn't just because of my personal regard for Sookie, although the thought of Corporal Mott's sweaty hands anywhere near her made me want to rip his head off, an unprovoked attack on two locals would have had even the likes of Caroline Bellefleur thinking twice about co-operation. The locals had for the most part adopted a policy of "passive resistance"; they weren't friendly by any means, but they were compliant. All that would go out of the window once the occupying army started attacking pretty young girls on their way home from work.

I dismissed Sigebert, waiting for him to close the door behind him before I chucked my hat on the desk with a sigh. I began reviewing papers, various complaints from locals about the behaviour of soldiers who had been billeted in their homes. By the time there was a knock at the door an hour later, I was in a foul mood.

"Come in," I called out in an authoritative tone.

Tray breezed in, shutting the door behind him and throwing his hat on the desk next to mine. I looked him up and down, shaking my head, wondering how anyone serving in the armed forces could manage to look so scruffy. He looked like he hadn't shaved this morning, his top button was undone and there was mud all over his boots.

I leaned back in my chair. "If Andre sees you looking like that, he'll have a fucking hernia."

Tray fingered his collar. "It's too God-damn tight. My neck's got bigger."

I laughed. "Maybe if you stopped eating enough for a whole regiment, you would be able to do it up."

Tray just shrugged good-naturedly. "Maybe. But where would be the fun in that?" He held up a brown paper packet. "I managed to get hold of some coffee. Evie's going to want my babies when I give it to her. She's been going on about making coffee cake for the last fortnight."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "I thought you were sweet on Amelia but I'm starting to think that you prefer your women a little older..."

Tray grinned at me, taking it all in good humour. "No, just better at making pastry... Well, at least there's no doubting where your affections lie in that house. It's a wonder I haven't slipped over and broken something, with the trail of drool you leave every time you see Sookie..."

I shot him a look, my mood having suddenly soured again. "You're likely to be suffering from a broken nose soon enough but it won't be my drool that does it... And I mean it about your appearance Captain, Andre won't let it go like I do."

"Yeah, well I suppose I'll get punished accordingly," he grumbled under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I shot back.

He rolled his eyes. "You know exactly what it means: the likes of you, the Lebrecht twins, you're practically untouchable. Rich, powerful daddies in Berlin, all friends with Andre... They attack a couple of locals, they have to clean a few signs. I undo my top button and I'll be on Aldernay digging fenceholes till I'm fifty."

"Tray—" My tone softened. I wanted to deny it, but I knew he had a point.

Tray let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head apologetically. He knew full well that I'd trade my rich, powerful father for Dauschen senior, any day of the week. "Don't worry about it Eric. I'm just in a shitty mood today."

I shook my head. "You and me both." My face broke into a smile as I realised just how to cheer him up. "Let's get back to the farm. Evie was making rhubarb crumble this morning with that sugar you brought back the other day. It should be ready by now..." _And I'll get to see Sookie_, I thought.

Tray's face lit up like a beacon as he nodded eagerly. Worked every time.

0-0-0-0-0

We made it back to the farm just after half past five. There'd been a lot of rain over the last week, so we removed our boots at the door, so as not to get mud on Mrs Broadway's freshly washed floor. I tossed my hat at Tray to take upstairs and padded into the kitchen in my socks.

Sookie was stood at the sink, humming along to the radio, as she peeled vegetables. Her hair was piled up in curls on her head, her red scarf securing them with a neat bow. She was wearing a navy dress cinched in at the waist flowing out in wide pleats, which made her waist look tiny and her ass look delicious. I watched her for a moment as she finished what she was doing, running her hands under the tap before wiping them methodically on the pale blue apron tied around her middle. There was such a calmness about her as she worked, and she was just so beautiful.

"Hi Sookie. Where's your aunt? I've got some coffee for her." Tray bundled past me into the kitchen, utterly oblivious, startling Sookie and pulling me out of my silent contemplation.

"Oh hello," she said politely, addressing us both.

"Hello Sookie," I said with a smile. Her expression mirrored my own before she turned away, seemingly a little nervous, as Amelia came through the back door.

Sookie's cousin shucked off her boots on the mat, and brought the bowl of eggs she was carrying over to the counter. She took off her jacket, hanging it on the back of the door before pulling out one of the chairs and slumping down dramatically at the table.

"Officers." Amelia greeted us in her usual playful way as we nodded our hellos. She turned to her cousin. "Christ I'm famished. Sook, when's dinner ready?"

Sookie glanced at the clock, biting her lip in concentration. "I was aiming for six but I think it might be closer to to quarter past now. Sorry, I haven't done the potatoes yet."

Sookie glanced at Tray who was frowning in confusion. "I'm cooking tonight," she informed him with a laugh. "Auntie Evie and Uncle Cope have gone to the pub."

"There's a bridge competition on," Amelia explained, filling in the blanks. They didn't go out often; in fact this might have been the first time since we arrived at the farm. "They're the town champs."

She looked over at Tray and nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "God Dawson, lighten up. It'll be okay for one night. Sookie's a brilliant cook; Mum taught her everything she knows."

Sookie laughed again. "She taught you too," she said, addressing her cousin with a fond smile. "You just chose to ignore her."

Amelia stuck her nose in the air with mock haughtiness. "A woman should never learn to cook, and if she can, she should never admit to it."

I laughed. My mother would probably say something similar. "So what have we got?" I asked.

Sookie bent over the oven, opening the door, letting a rush of heat and baking escape. Something smelled good, whatever it was.

"Chicken and vegetable pie, with mash. And rhubarb crumble for dessert."

"And custard?" Tray asked hopefully.

Sookie nodded, giving him a little smirk. "And custard."

"Can we help with anything?" I asked.

Sookie looked at me, a little surprised, then flashed me a small smile of acceptance. "If you could lay the table, that would be great?"

I nodded. "Sure."

We'd been at the farm for long enough now that I knew where most things were. Tray got up and laid out the knives and forks, while I got some glasses down from the dresser and filled a jug with some water.

"I made some sweet tea," Sookie called at me over her shoulder. "It's in the fridge."

"Sweet tea?" I scrunched up my nose; it sounded disgusting.

She smiled, shaking her head. "It's a hangover from my childhood. A Louisiana thing. Auntie Evie thinks it's an abomination to drink tea cold, so I only tend to make it when she goes out. It should have lemon in it but we can't get them..." She shrugged. "So just cold tea and sugar. You should try it."

I went over to the fridge and peered inside the ceramic jug, relieved to find that there was no cream in sweet tea. I looked back at Sookie who was watching me expectantly.

"Looks good," I volunteered, not entirely convinced, but taking it over to the table and pouring us both a glass. I brought hers over to her and stood next to her, leaning up against the kitchen counter as she busied away.

"Do you miss it? Louisiana I mean?" I asked, taking a tentative sip. It was actually quite refreshing, better than the hot stuff.

She smiled. "A little. I was twelve when I left, so I remember it well enough. I miss the heat... I mean it tends to be quite nice here in the summer, but it's a different kind of heat there..."

I nodded in understanding.

"... And my parents of course. I still miss them a lot."

"What happened to them?" I asked.

She looked at me, a flash of pain passing fleetingly across her features, and I immediately wanted to kick myself. Sookie picked up on my pained expression.

"It's fine," she said, giving me a reassuring smile. "It's nice to talk about them, actually... They died in a flash flood."

She went over to the oven and pulled out the pie which had baked into a wonderful golden colour, setting it to cool on the side. A delicious hot buttery smell drifted through the kitchen.

"We stayed with my Gran initially but she was old... she had a stroke about a year later, so then we came here. Auntie Evie is my mom's sister. Mom was originally from St. Helier but she met my dad during the last war and moved to America with him... They couldn't have any more kids after Amelia... Well, they've always treated Jason and me like we were their own."

"They're good people," I offered.

She gave me a sad smile. "They are."

"And your brother where is he?"

She sighed. "He's in the Navy. I got a letter from him a couple of weeks ago, the first time in months. He's stationed somewhere near—" She stopped abruptly, her hand flying to her mouth as she turned a bright shade of red.

I looked at her, confused for a second. Then realisation dawned. "It's okay," I said, trying to put her at ease. "You don't need to tell me where. But he's okay?"

"Yes," she nodded shyly. "Um, thank you."

"That's good." I meant it. He was on the other side, sure. But I didn't want Sookie to go through that kind of grief, she'd lost enough family members already to last a lifetime.

"I hope you keep in touch with your family, Eric," she chided, pointing a mocking finger at me. "There's really nothing worse than not knowing."

I smiled. "I write to my mother every two weeks or so. We've got pretty good communication lines back to Germany, so I get regular letters from her as well, keeping me up to date. My father's in the army too, although he's based in Berlin." I couldn't suppress a frown. "I suspect he gets regular reports."

Sookie began mashing the potatoes with a heavy wooden implement. "And there's no one special, back in Berlin?" she mumbled, using her fingers to tuck a lock of hair back that had fallen loose in her exertion.

I watched her for a second as she continued, her brow wrinkled in concentration. She refrained from making eye contact and I turned my gaze to watch Amelia and Tray who were chatting animatedly at the table.

"No," I whispered. "No one special in Berlin."

Sookie's face remained impassive as she silently spooned the mashed potatoes into a bowl, pouring in some cream and butter. I wondered for a second if she had heard me, but I knew she must have.

"So how's the book coming along?" I asked, after a moment, trying restart the conversation.

She glanced up at me, a smile forming at her lips. "It was wonderful. Thank you. I've already finished it twice—"

"Was it as naughty as I thought?" I teased.

"Not really," she shrugged. She almost sounded a little disappointed; that was interesting. She stopped what she was doing, turning to face me and put her hand on her hip in mock annoyance. "I did notice, however, that the hero is tall, blonde, strapping and irresistibly handsome... I suppose that was a coincidence?"

I feigned confusion for a moment. "Does that mean you think I'm handsome?" I asked, unable to hide my smirk.

She shook her head exasperatedly.

"Wait! Hold on, you think I'm _irresistibly_ handsome?" I probed, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes dramatically and gave me an admonishing look. "I'm not having this conversation."

I chuckled as she looked over to the others, suddenly a little skittish again. "Captain Dauschen, Amelia. Dinner's ready. Come and get it."

**Sookie – November 1940**

"What are you guys whispering about?" I enquired with a laugh.

Sam shifted uneasily from foot to foot, staring down at his shoes, as Pam rolled her eyes at me. "You know what curiosity did to the cat now Sookie, don't you?"

"Good thing I'm not a cat then, isn't it Pamela?" I replied sarcastically. I frowned. I'd only been making conversation, but I actually was curious now. "Sam?"

He looked at me sheepishly. "We're just talking about whether we should put up prices at the pub. We're having to rely on the black market a lot more all of a sudden, it's starting to hurt..."

I looked at him sceptically; Sam was a terrible liar. "Ri-ight."

Suddenly Pam looked over to the entrance of the dancehall. I followed her line of sight watching as Barry entered. His eyes flickered towards Pam and he gave her the briefest nod of confirmation before heading over to speak to Arlene and Debbie.

I turned to Pam, quirking my eyebrow questioningly.

"Mind your own business, Sookie," she warned, her voice low. "For all our sakes."

0-0-0-0-0

As we made our way home from the dance hall, Amelia twirled beside me, singing at the top of her lungs. She was a little drunk and kept forgetting the words, stopping mid-verse and then starting another song. I'd had a couple of gin and tonics myself; I wasn't a huge drinker, so I was feeling slightly unsteady as we made our way back to the farm in the dark.

As we approached the house, I could see the light was on in Uncle Cope's workshop. I smiled to myself, Tray was always tinkering away with something or other. Moments later Amelia let out a squeal as she noticed the old shed lit up and went bounding up the path towards it. I hissed at her through clenched teeth to come back, but there was no stopping her. With a frustrated sigh, I followed her towards the light.

Eric and Tray were in the shed, still in uniform though looking slightly dishevelled, sat on turned-over crates. They'd made a large box into a make-shift table and it was strewn with cards and money and cigarette packets. There were a couple of discarded beer bottles on the floor by the door and a gas heater in the corner keeping out the night chill.

As usual Amelia had made a beeline for Dauschen; he was laughing at her as she twirled around, grabbing the unlit cigarette from his mouth and lighting it as she did so. Eric stood up as I approached and flashed me a smile that made my insides melt a little.

He swept his hand in the direction of the crate he had been sitting on, inviting me to sit down, and offered me a fresh beer. I took the seat gratefully, fanning my coat out underneath me, but declined the drink. He was about to offer one to Amelia but I stopped him, grabbing his sleeve, before she noticed.

I made a face. "God don't give her any more, please," I whispered conspiratorially. "I'm not sure how I'm going to get her past Auntie Evie as it is. That woman hears everything, even when she's asleep."

He gave me a knowing smirk, placing the beer gently out of harm's way. "So, how was the dance?"

"Oh, the band were great, really great," I replied, unable to suppress a grin. "We had a fantastic time."

Eric crouched down in front of me, his knees grazing mine as he leant back on his haunches. "Did you dance?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "God, I didn't stop. I'll probably be paying for it tomorrow..." I flexed my toes for emphasis. "But I love dancing, more than anything really."

Eric's smile mirrored my own. "Dance with anyone I know?" he asked.

His tone sounded nonchalant but I wasn't sure if it was. We'd developed into this strange pattern, Eric and I, ever since that night with the German soldiers. He flirted, making his attraction clear whenever we had a moment alone, and although I knew it was wrong, I didn't always discourage him. He was achingly handsome, and smart, and he made me laugh. Every now and again though, I'd catch him looking at me, or something would pass between us, and I'd know it wasn't just a harmless flirtation. There was something more there, for both of us, and it scared me.

I tried to keep my reply light. "Well, you know, these days there aren't that many men around to dance with," I teased. "But let me see... I danced with Andy Bellefleur for one..." Eric rolled his eyes in response and I couldn't help but laugh. "And of course I danced with Bill..."

"So did I, more's the pity," Amelia interrupted, gesticulating wildly with her cigarette. "God that man's a useless dancer. Couldn't quickstep if his life depended on it. I think I may need to have my little toe amputated in the morning. You know, he nearly dropped poor Sookie..."

Eric's eyes flashed to mine, protectively. "He dropped you?"

"_Nearly_ dropped me... maybe..." I stifled a giggle as I remembered it. Amelia was right; Bill really was an awful dancer. "I guess I was a little too heavy or something," I added self-consciously. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't thin either, by any means.

I let out a shriek as Eric shot up, sweeping me up into his arms without warning and swinging me around the workshop. "Hardly," he laughed dismissively. "You weigh almost nothing..."

"Put me down, Eric," I hissed, slapping at his chest, as Amelia and Tray looked on in fits of laughter. "Eric!"

After a one more spin he set me gently back on the crate. I crossed my legs, testily, smoothing down my hair and skirt, trying to suppress a smile. Eric sat down on the floor next to me, almost my height even thought I was on the crate.

"Anyone else drop you?" he teased.

"No, but I danced with my friend Barry, Barry Horrowitz." My eyes met his fiercely, challenging him to react as I emphasised Barry's last name. "You met him, remember?"

"I remember," Eric replied impassively, neglecting to pick up the gauntlet I had thrown down. "He's the one who works with you, yes?"

I nodded. "At the pub, collecting glasses. We went to school together. He's a couple of years younger, but I guess we were kindred spirits, Barry and I. He lost his parents too, at about the same age. We always had that in common..."

Eric gave me a sympathetic smile. "He seems like a good friend to have," he said softly.

I looked down at my hands, interlaced in my lap. "He is."

Eric tried to lighten the tone. "So to sum up... tonight you were whirled round the dancefloor by none other than "Granny's boy" Bellefleur, Bill "the Bore" Compton and _little_ Barry Horrowitz—"

"Barry is _not_ little," I said with a giggle. "You've seen him. He's about five foot eleven and a charming dancer."

"He's an infant. And, anyway, he's little compared to us," Eric beamed proudly, gesturing between himself and Tray.

"That's certainly true," I conceded, rolling my eyes at his arrogance. They were giants; Eric must have been about six foot five and Tray was almost as tall.

"So Bellefleur, Bill and Barry... anyone else to add to this rag-tag list of eligible batchelors?" he smirked.

"Just Sam," I admitted with a shrug.

"She danced with Sam for most of the night," Amelia interrupted again, twirling around, but less energetically this time. I shot her a look that demanded that she shut her mouth, and she stopped moving at once, stumbling sideways a little, with a contrite look on her face. "Now _he_ can dance," she muttered, almost to herself.

"Amelia, we should be getting inside," I said firmly, letting out an irritated breath. I stood up, trying to avoid Eric's eyes. I could sense the heat of his gaze, and felt my skin begin to burn in response.

Amelia nodded obediently, the alcohol seemingly starting to wear off. She gave Eric and Tray a meek wave and headed up to the house, with me following behind. I'd muttered a hurried goodbye and made it a few paces up the path when I felt Eric's hand glance across my arm.

I looked up at him and in an instant he had pulled me to him, one hand firmly on my wrist, the other lightly gripping my waist.

"Dance with me, Sookie," he whispered possessively, his cool breath at my ear causing me to shiver.

I felt my skin prickle with energy as he rubbed his thumb lightly over my palm.

"Eric, I can't—" My protests sounded weak, even to me.

"Dance with me," he repeated, his voice was low, caressing me like warm dark chocolate as he gripped me a little closer. "No more old men or silly boys. Dance with _me_."

My head felt messy and conflicted, but Eric's touch had me breathless as he held me against him. I could smell beer mingled with Eric's warm fresh scent as I sighed into his shoulder in capitulation. I could feel him smile into my hair as he twirled me around, a silent waltz, as I blindly followed his lead.

The night took on a dreamlike quality as Eric held me close. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a light come on upstairs in the farmhouse, pulling me back into reality. I stopped dead in my tracks, pulling at Eric to make him still, as I glanced nervously at the shadows of movement darkening the window of my aunt and uncle's room.

My cheeks filled with heat, burning in the cool November night, as realisation and shame washed over me.

"Eric, please... I can't." My voice sounded strained as I used my free hand to push against his chest.

Eric released his grip on me and I took a couple of steps back, immediately feeling cold, somehow bereft.

"Sookie, I—" he started, reaching out for me.

"Eric, please don't." I held up my hand, begging him to be quiet. "I can't do this."

"Sookie," he repeated, his tone pleading.

"_Major Northman_, I said don't." I gave him one last look of entreaty as I backed away from him, tears starting to fall, before turning and running into the house.

**A/N: Two steps forward and two steps back as Paul Abdul would say. I hope you are all still enjoying this? I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	4. Chapter 4 Ambush

**A/N: I can't thank you enough for all your kind reviews for the last chapter and for putting this fic on your favourites/alerts. I'm a bit rubbish about replying to reviews but please know that I cherish every one. This is by far and away the most difficult story I've written so far, so it really does help me to know that you're enjoying it.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

**_"There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment." Sarah Dessen (The Truth about Forever)_ **

**Sookie – January 1941**

I added another log to the fire in the kitchen and then sat back in the chair, pulling the old Afghan blanket around my shoulders as the wind rattled against the shutters of the farmhouse. At times like this I found myself aching for Louisiana, even though I hadn't been back there in nearly a decade. I hated winter as a rule anyway but this one had been particularly bleak. I took a sip of my hot milk as I listened to the rain thudding down on the roof. We were out of coffee again, and despite Barry's foolish assertion that the stuff made from acorns tasted almost as good, I really missed it.

December had been a miserable month. I hadn't known what to say or how to act around Eric after we'd had our silent moonlit dance, so I'd done my utmost to avoid him, making sure we were never left alone in the same room. He'd tried to speak to me a couple of times of course, to clear the air, but I didn't know what to say, and after a few days he had simply given up.

I let out a sigh as I watched the fire dance across the hearth. Part of me felt so angry at myself for letting it go that far, so ashamed of my lack of control, but another part of me, the increasingly dominant part, recognised that night as the single most romantic moment of my life so far.

And then he was gone.

A few days before Christmas, Eric had announced that he had been required to return to Berlin for ten days. His mother had been diagnosed with some kind of heart condition and so his father had pulled strings to get him home. At first that had made me angry too: this would be the second year running that we'd be celebrating Christmas without Jason, even his letters had pretty much stopped since the occupation. But when I had allowed myself to think about it more, I had to admit to myself that it wasn't really Jason that had me incensed, I was upset that it was Christmas and I wasn't going to get to see Eric.

I heard the scuffle of someone coming in through the back door and got up to see who it was. Bill stood there toeing off his boots as he shook the rain out of his dark hair.

"Hey Bill," I called out. "It's still coming down out there, huh?"

He looked up and gave me a warm smile. "Hello Sookie."

Bill hung his coat up on the back of the door, the rain water trickling down into a wet pool on the mat. "It's horrible out there, the wind's blowing it in every direction. I'm supposed to be ploughing the back field but it's just too wet. I've come to tell Cope that I might as well go home." He exhaled heavily, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.

I nodded. "I think he took the van into town actually. He said he wouldn't be long though. Do you want to wait for him? I can make you a cup of tea?"

Bill grinned at me. His white teeth stood out against his slightly ruddy, weather-beaten complexion. "That'd be great. Thanks Sookie."

I chucked the blanket down on the chair and made my way to the cooker, lighting the hob for the kettle. I blew out the match, inhaling the smell as a tiny whisp of smoke snaked towards the ceiling.

"I was going to pop to the pub this evening," Bill said casually as I went to the dresser to retrieve the teapot and some cups. "Are you working tonight?"

I shook my head. "I was supposed to be but Sam said I might as well stay home. What with it being so soon after New Year, it's bound to be quiet. He's got Pam and Barry on tonight, so that should be enough."

"Oh right." Bill sounded disappointed. "Um... Well, you could go anyway, for a drink? With me, I mean?"

I glanced hesitatingly out of the window. I didn't really want to go anywhere in that weather and I wasn't sure going for a drink with Bill was a good idea in any case. As much as I would never admit it in front of Pam, I knew that he liked me and I didn't really want to do anything to encourage him.

"Amelia could come too?" Bill suggested, a little desperately.

I tried to suppress a snort; Amelia would just love that. I turned back to face him, trying to give him my kindest smile. "I don't know Bill. Maybe another time? I think I'm just in the mood to stay in tonight, you know? It's just too horrible out there."

Bill looked crestfallen for a moment before righting his features into a forced smile. "Right. Of course."

We stood there awkwardly for a second, not making eye contact, as the fire crackled behind us. I glanced at the kettle, willing it to boil. The scream of the doorbell startled us both.

"Um, excuse me a second," I mumbled.

I trudged out to the front door, grateful for the reprieve. I muttered to myself under my breath, wondering how I managed to get myself into these situations.

When I opened the door though, I felt my insides do a somersault. There he was, sopping wet, but gloriously handsome, grinning at me from the other side of the threshold.

Eric.

0-0-0-0-0

"You're back," I whispered, stating the obvious, aware that a ridiculously large smile had hijacked my features. It was so unbelievably good to see him.

He smirked. "It would seem so. God Sookie, are you a sight for sore eyes?"

I flushed beetroot red as I motioned for him to come in out of the rain. "Why didn't you use your key?" I asked. Uncle Cope had got Tray and Eric keys cut after the first month; it made it easier on everyone.

"Sorry. It just felt a little strange just letting myself in after being gone for nearly two weeks," he answered with a shrug, throwing his sodden hat onto the doormat. He pulled his boots off and walked beside me towards the kitchen.

"God, you're soaked," I laughed, as he squelched across the slate floor into the kitchen. "You're going to catch your death. Why don't you give me your jacket and I'll hang it by the fire to dry out..." I pulled on his sleeve trying to get him to undo it.

Eric stopped still as we entered the kitchen and I looked up, following his gaze.

Bill. I had forgotten he was there.

"Mr Compton," Eric said impassively, nodding his head at Bill, as I released my grip on Eric's arm.

Bill's eyes darted between Eric and I for a second, a frown inhabiting his brow. "Major," he replied coolly, after a pause.

Bill and Eric regarded each other expressionlessly for a second as I glanced at the floor wondering what to say next. The whistle of the kettle gave me a way out of the silence.

"Er, Major Northman, I'm making Bill a cup of tea. Would you like one?"

Eric gave me a little smirk and then glanced at Bill arrogantly as I tried to control the blush that was spreading across my cheeks again. "Sure Sookie. Why not? I'm going to pop upstairs and change out of these wet clothes first, but I'll be straight down."

I nodded. "Okay."

Once Eric had left, Bill cleared his throat next to me. His features were knitted into a tense scowl. "Look Sookie, thanks for the offer of tea, but I think I'd really best be heading home..."

"Oh, are you sure?" I tried to sound disappointed.

Bill nodded solemnly.

"Okay. Well, I'll tell Uncle Cope when he gets back."

"Yes. Thank you Sookie."

I gave him a half-smile as I followed him, watching him make his way to the back door and out into the rain. "Enjoy tonight," I called after him.

"Tonight?" he replied, turning back and looking at me with a puzzled expression.

"At the Dog & Bottle... You said you were going."

Bill nodded absent-mindedly. "Oh yes. I will... Goodbye Sookie."

I closed the back door with a shiver as the wind howled into the kitchen.

"Damn. Has Bill the Bore gone home?"

I twirled around to find Eric behind me, grinning smugly.

"Major Northman," I scolded him. "That's not very nice."

He laughed. "I suppose not. It's true though."

He'd changed into a dry pair of uniform pants and black fitted pullover that clung temptingly to his broad chest. I felt my insides clench a little as my eyes fluttered over him; he looked delicious.

Eric rooted around in his kit bag, pulling out a brown paper bag that was a little soggy around the edges. "Here, I got you these..."

I cocked my head to one side, questioningly, as he handed me the bag. I couldn't help but chuckle as I examined the contents. "Lemons?"

"All the way from Italy... For your sweet tea."

I looked at him, astounded. "Eric, that's... well, that's so lovely."

He flashed me a lop-sided grin. "Well, it's not real sweet tea unless it has lemons. Or so I've been told..."

I nodded, pursing my lips to stifle a laugh. "That is certainly true. Thank you so much."

Eric reached inside his bag again. "I also bought you some chocolate," he said, handing me a large bar covered in dark blue foreign packaging. "But I have a feeling you're going to have to share that with Amelia and your aunt."

I looked at the chocolate with greedy eyes. "Not if we don't tell them about it," I suggested with a wink.

He threw back his head with a deep throaty laugh and then his eyes met mine, full of mirth and something deeper. I returned his gaze for the briefest moment, and then looked away, feeling shy all of a sudden as the atmosphere in the room changed.

I looked down at my hands, full of trepidation. It was now or never. "Look, Eric, I'm sorry about before you left, I, well, I..." Somehow the right words wouldn't come out.

I heard him exhale heavily and I looked up at him, an anxious expression clouding his face. Silently, he motioned towards the fire and I nodded, moving to take a seat, pulling my legs up under the blanket, as Eric sat down next to me on the rug by the fire.

Eric sat there for a moment staring at the flames as I watched him, the light from the fire dancing over his skin. "I missed you, while I was away. I don't want things to be awkward between us any more." Eric's voice was low, barely above a murmur.

I felt my breath catch a little in my throat as I pondered his words. "I don't want things to be awkward either," I whispered. Eric's head shot around to face me, his eyes intense.

An unguarded smiled broke out across his face. "Well," he said, sitting up straighter as he turned his body to face me. "Now we've got that sorted, why don't you tell me about your Christmas?"

I returned his smile, relaxing a little. "There's not much to tell, really... It was fairly quiet with you gone and Dauschen up with the officers. Pam and Barry came here Christmas Eve for while but then Pam had to get back to the pub in the evening... And, um, then it was just us family and Bill on Christmas Day. Auntie Evie did a marvellous turkey dinner, I think Officer Dauschen was sick that he missed it. She saved him a plate though. I think she's definitely warming to him..."

Eric chuckled. "Well he's utterly smitten. If I were your uncle, I'd be worried..."

I laughed. "And how was it being back home? How is your mother?"

Eric's expression was pained all of a sudden. He shook his head. "She's not good. She's really quite ill." He swallowed, looking away. "It hurt to see her so changed... She has the best doctors in Berlin looking after her but... well, I don't know if she's going to get better."

I reached over, putting my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "I'm sorry, Eric."

He nodded, placing his hand gently on top of mine, stroking my skin with his thumb. He looked so vulnerable and I found myself having to fight the urge to curl up in his lap and comfort him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

I tried to take his mind off his mother. "But it must have been good being back in Berlin though?"

Eric frowned. "Actually, Germany has changed a lot, since the last time I was there even. I find I don't like many of the changes that have taken place." He was silent for a moment, running a hand through his hair. "And I argued constantly with my father, as usual..." He shook his head, thinking things through for a moment and then looked up at me with a sheepish grin. "All in all, I think I am better off here..."

"Well I'm glad you're back," I said softly, watching my fingers as they interlinked with his. God it was good to see him. "I missed our talks."

He smiled at me for a second, pushing up on his knees so that he was facing me, almost my height as I sat in the chair. He reached out with his hand, my body tensing as he captured a stray lock of my hair between his fingers. My heart thundered in my chest as his thumb brushed against my cheek, tucking the hair behind my ear.

"I missed them too," he murmured, leaning imperceptibly towards me, never averting his eyes from mine.

"Eric," I whispered, not sure if it was in protest or encouragement, frozen, as everything seemed to go hazy around us.

The front door slammed suddenly. In a flash Eric had released me, sinking swiftly back onto his heels. I took the opportunity to leap out of the chair, making my way towards the sink as Uncle Cope breezed into the kitchen. I was shaking, trying to recapture my breath as I processed what so very nearly happened.

"Hi, Sook," he said looking around the kitchen. "Ahhh, Northman you're back."

Eric smiled nonchalantly, getting up. "Yes sir."

"Good trip?"

Eric nodded politely. How could he stay so cool?

"Bring any of those Attikahs back?" my uncle enquired, a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Eric smiled. "Of course."

Uncle Cope nodded in approval. "Good, good... Sook is that the kettle just boiled?"

I laughed nervously. "Yes it is. You two go have your German cigarettes and I'll make you a cup of tea."

Uncle Cope leaned over, kissing my head at the temple. I still felt a little flushed, and hoped that my uncle had put it down to me sitting too close to the fire.

"That's my girl."

0-0-0-0-0

I pulled Andy Bellefleur another pint of ale. He gave me his money with a mellow smile and I tried not to roll my eyes; he was on his third pint and it wasn't even two yet. Barry approached the bar, stacking the dirty glasses to one side.

"God, it's slow today," he said, rolling his eyes and leaning up against the bar.

"Don't knock it," I said with a smile, looking around at the empty pub. "Slow is good."

"Spoken like a true person who won't ever have to worry about paying rent if they lose their job," Barry said wryly.

I smiled sweetly at Barry. "You wouldn't ever be homeless, hon. You could always come live with us... I'm sure Uncle Cope would make room for you in the hen house..."

Barry snorted and I chuckled at him. Suddenly, I felt a gust of cold wind come in from the pub entrance and looked over as Bill pushed himself through the heavy swing door.

"Hi Bill," I called out as he made his way over to me. He didn't look up as he stalked towards the bar, slamming his hand down in front of me as he approached.

I shot Barry a confused look. He shrugged amusedly before flashing me a look that read _'he's all yours'_ and skulking off towards the other side of the pub.

"Everything alright, Bill?" I asked with concern. I looked down at his hand. He was gripping a photograph. "Bill?"

"Here," he said forcefully, handing me the picture. I took it from him, apprehensively, holding it delicately at one edge. The picture was of a woman I had never met; she was beautiful, about my age. I couldn't really tell what colour her hair was but her make-up was immaculate, like a movie star.

"Um, what is this?" I asked uneasily, forcing a calming smile.

"You think you know him but you don't," Bill muttered angrily. "How could you, Sookie? How could you trust him, knowing what he is?"

I felt the colour drain from my face as I glanced nervously around me. Calvin Norris was in the corner eating his lunch; Barry was at the back of the pub playing darts with Andy. None of them were paying any attention to us.

"I-I don't know what you're getting at, Bill," I whispered earnestly. "And I don't like your tone."

He grabbed the corner of the photograph, pulling it out of my hand. "I found this in his bedroom, _your_ old room," he spat, brandishing the photograph like a weapon.

"Bill, I think you've got the wrong—" My voice trailed off as understanding began to dawn on me. "Bill," I hissed, indignation starting to trump my anxiety. "Please tell me you weren't in Major Northman's room?"

He stared at me defiantly, saying nothing.

"Jesus Christ. Are you out of your bloody mind?" I snapped. "He's a German officer. You could be shot for spying or something."

Bill ignored me, ploughing on single-mindedly. "I found this in his stuff, Sookie. I know you've got a thing for him. You can't trust him, you know that. He's not good for you."

That was it, my patience had hit rock bottom. "Of course he's not bloody good for me Bill, he's a God-damn Gerry soldier. Do you think I'm an idiot? What the hell are you thinking, accusing me of God knows what? Rooting through his room like that? You must be insane..."

Bill looked up at me, the fire gone from his eyes, appealing for me to understand. "He's using you Sookie, don't you see?"

"No Bill. That's enough." Suddenly my blood turned cold. Oh God. "Who else have you told about your crazy theories?" I rasped.

Bill looked nauseous all of a sudden. "No one," he said, shaking his head with dismay. "Good God, I would never say anything. Sookie I would never betray—"

I put my hand up. "I don't want to hear it, Bill. I want you to leave. Leave me alone."

I snatched the photo out of his hands, leaving him at the bar and paced angrily into the private area at the back of the pub, a myriad of emotions coursing through me.

I turned the light on in the store cupboard, carefully shutting the door behind me, before examining the picture again. I could feel bile rising up in my throat; she really was beautiful, whoever she was.

My legs feeling weak, I slid down the wall, slumping onto the cold floor.

I could feel bitter tears welling in my eyes as I turned the photo over and read the back, written in tall elegant script.

_Sophie-Anne, Mai 1938._

**Eric – January 1941**

It felt better knowing that Sookie and I were friends again.

I had thought of her constantly while I was away. On the night we danced, as I held her in my arms, I had allowed myself the tiniest glimmer of hope that she felt the same way as I did. Then, in a heartbeat, it had all fallen to pieces. She did everything she could to avoid me, never allowing us to be alone in the same room together. I tried desperately to get a moment with her to talk it through, but she was just so stubborn sometimes and, in truth, I didn't know what I would say in any case. When I got the telegraph telling me that my mother was ill, after weeks of awkward silence, I was almost relieved.

Christmas in Berlin had been really hard. My mother had changed so much from when I saw her last. A former model, she'd always been hugely glamorous, so vivacious, and now she just seemed frail, an old woman overnight. My father wasn't taking my mother's illness at all well, anyone could see that, but he steadfastly refused to acknowledge any kind of emotion. He used my mother's illness to continue to pressure me to come back to Berlin, to accept a post in one of the interior ministries and 'start my career'. It was a topic that had led us to huge arguments on more than one occasion. I loved my country, I did, and I wanted it to be great again but I just had no interest in that kind of life or anything that it represented. Berlin just wasn't a place I wanted to be any more.

When it was time to go back to Jersey, I had been excited to see Sookie but full of trepidation as well. I wasn't sure I had it in me to go back to how it had been before I left, but when she answered the door and looked so elated to see me, I allowed myself to hope that she might feel something after all. I had come so close to kissing her, my lips near enough to hers that I could feel her sweet breath on my skin.

Copley had ruined it all, of course, but now I knew. She hadn't pushed me away, she hadn't moved her head. Whether or not she would have gone on to regret it later, at that moment she had wanted me to kiss her.

0-0-0-0-0

I lay on my bed, trying to read. My mind was distracted and I'd been on the same page for half an hour. Downstairs, I heard the front door slam and heard the thrum of feet on wood as someone ran up the stairs. Suddenly Sookie was in my room, having barged through the closed door.

I put the book down on the bed, sitting up. "Sookie?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and giving her a flirtatious smile. "What can I do for you?"

"You bastard," she hissed, stalking towards me. "I can't believe I trusted you."

I looked at her, totally stunned. Her words felt like a slap across my face. "Sookie, I don't—"

She shoved her hand against my chest. "Care to explain this?" she accused.

I looked down at her hand. My heart skipped a beat as I realised she was holding a photograph, my photograph of Sophie-Anne. "Sookie, I—"

Her eyes shot to mine and she held up her palm to me. "No. You know what Eric? It's your business. I don't want to hear it."

"I can explain—" I tried.

"Save it," she snapped. "God, I can't believe I thought I... Just stay the hell away from me, okay?"

She turned to leave. I stood up, furious now, and grabbed her by the wrist. "You can't just storm in here. How the hell have you even got that picture anyway?"

"Get your hands off me, Eric," she snarled, ignoring my question.

"No," I hissed. "You can't come in here and just accuse me and not give me a chance to explain."

She pulled against my hand but I held her firm. Anxiously, I looked past her out into the hall, reaching around her to close the door.

"No," she spat, her face flush with anger. "I don't want to talk to you."

I looked at her. "Fine. I'll talk. You just have to listen." I motioned to the bed.

She looked at me, her expression full of contempt.

"Sit down," I said firmly.

I shot her a look that made it clear that I meant it. She paused momentarily and then sat primly on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands in her lap.

I ran a frustrated hand through my hair as I paced in front of her. Where the fuck did I begin?

"I grew up with Sophie-Anne Lebrecht in Berlin. Our parents were friends and I was at school with her older brothers... Um, she was a couple of years younger than me and for most of my childhood she was more of an annoyance than anything else. I don't remember when it was that I first noticed her, in that way, but one minute she was an annoying younger sister, the next minute she was this beautiful, fascinating creature and I had to have her..."

I stole a glance at Sookie and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"We were together, on and off, while I was at military school and for a couple of years afterwards. When we were together, we were exclusive." I frowned for a second as a few memories came back to me. "At least I know I was... I know she had other lovers while we were apart, but so did I. It was just one of those things, it was comfortable; we'd split up for a while but we always found our way back to each other again. It was expected that we would marry eventually. Our parents wanted it and, well, I suppose we didn't question it."

I heard her take a sharp intake of breath. She still wouldn't look at me. "You're married," she whispered.

"No, Sookie," I sighed. "I'm not married. We were engaged but we never married."

"_Were_?" she asked, looking up at me questioningly.

I sat down beside her. It was my turn to look at the floor. "Sookie, Sophie-Anne is dead." I looked at the photo with a frown. "That photo was taken about two months before she died."

I felt the bed shift beside me as she turned to face me. "Oh Eric, I'm so sorry."

Sookie reached over and took my hand. I sat staring at our fingers laced together. "How did she die?" she whispered after a moment.

Sookie's face was a picture of concern. I swallowed, the back of my throat feeling tight, closed up. "She killed herself," I admitted with a sigh. "Her mother found her in the bath. She'd taken a razor blade to her wrists. "

Sookie gasped, her hand covering her mouth reflexively. "Oh my God."

"We weren't together when she died. She'd called off the engagement, again, the month before. But I should have known if she was that unhappy. I just never saw the signs, or ignored them, maybe, I don't know."

"It's not your fault Eric. You loved her, you couldn't see it." Her eyes were full of sadness.

I nodded and let out another heavy sigh. "I did love her. But I wasn't in love with her, if that makes sense. Not by the end anyway. At the time, I thought it was enough. I just always assumed that we'd end up together, like an old habit." I shook my head. "I guess it wasn't enough for her."

Sookie shifted on the bed, turning to face me. "I'm so sorry Eric. I'm sorry about Sophie-Anne and I feel so ashamed about the way I just behaved. God, I feel like I'm constantly apologising to you."

I nodded, giving her a sad smile. "It's fine. Next time, don't jump to conclusions. Please? Just ask."

We sat there for a second, a heavy silence descending between us. Sookie looked around the room, as if suddenly remembering where she was.

"I should go," she murmured, getting up shakily and walking towards the door.

I followed her and put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Sookie, please don't go. We need to talk about this... thing... between us."

She froze, her hand on the door handle, turning around slowly, avoiding eye contact. "Look Eric. I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression. I don't know what it is you think can happen between us..."

"No," I interrupted, shaking my head. "I don't want to hear that. I don't accept that. You have feelings for me, I know you do. You wouldn't have reacted that way about Sophie-Anne if you didn't." I gripped her shoulders, urging her to hear me. "Just tell me how you feel."

"Eric, please don't do this." She shook her head, trying to pull away from me.

I ran my hands over her arms, trying to soothe her.

"Tell me," I urged. "Please Sookie."

She leaned back against the door, her shoulders sagging with defeat. "I can't stop thinking about you," she admitted, a whisper, staring out towards the window. "I've tried to stop but I can't. I do have feelings for you and it scares me."

I felt my stomach lurch with excitement at her words, an intense feeling of relief washing over me. "I can't stop thinking about you either," I whispered. "Sookie, I think I'm in love with you."

Her eyes shot to mine and they were brimming with tears. I moved my hand to cup her cheek, leaning in towards her.

She shook her head, a pained look in her eyes. "Eric, we can't do this. We can't. Do you know what will happen to us if someone finds out..."

"I know you're scared but we'll be careful," I promised. "We can do this."

"Eric," she whispered again, her eyes pleading with me to understand.

"We'll be careful. No one will find out," I reassured her. I was so close to her now, I could feel her tremble against me.

Finally, never taking her eyes off mine, she let out a little sigh and nodded.

Time seemed to slow as I leaned forward tentatively, gently brushing my lips against hers. I pulled back slightly, allowing her a moment to decide. Her eyes met mine again and they were blazing with passion, urging me on. In an instant I used my body to press her against against the door and kissed her again, deeper this time. She let out a little moan, melting into the kiss, instantly granting me access with my tongue as I swept it gently over her bottom lip. As her tongue grazed against mine, I felt my pants tightening in response and I had to fight the urge to grind myself against her. We carried on like that, kissing, running our hands over one another, until we were both breathless and panting.

Finally, she pulled away. Her cheeks were still flushed from our kiss, her lips a little swollen. She'd never looked so beautiful.

"No one can ever know," she whispered, a tentative smile on her face.

I nodded, running my thumb across her cheek to trace her blush. "No one."

**A/N: As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5 Skirmish

**A/N: Hi everyone! Just a quick note to say thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and adding me to your alerts and favourites. It really does mean a lot to know that you are all so engaged by this story.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

_**"There are betrayals in war that are childlike compared with our human betrayals during peace. The new lovers enter the habits of the other. Things are smashed, revealed in a new light. This is done with nervous or tender sentences, although the heart is an organ of fire." Michael Ondaatje (The English Patient)**_

**Eric – April 1941**

I sat cross-legged under the oak tree looking out into the distance towards the farmhouse. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over Copely's potato crop. I shrugged off my jacket; it was unseasonably warm today and I could feel myself starting to sweat. Lifting my face towards the sun, I closed my eyes, basking in the heat.

Moments later I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped, despite myself. Opening my eyes with a start, I found Sookie leaning over me with a large grin on her beautiful face.

"I'm getting good at this," she giggled.

Her smile was infectious. I returned it, pulling her down into my lap. "Very stealthy," I murmured, brushing my lips across hers. "Did anyone see you leave?"

"I said I was going into town," she replied, snuggling into my chest as I wrapped my arms around her, greedily breathing in her scent. "When do you have to be back?"

I groaned. In recent weeks, the High Command had become increasingly fearful that the British were planning to mount an invasion to reclaim the islands. In response, Andre was overseeing a huge construction project on Jersey, building defences to repel a sudden attack. Most of the hard labour was being done by prisoners of war shipped in from the continent but I had been ordered to oversee some works down by the harbour. It wasn't exactly the type of role I had expected when I joined the army. Sometimes, I couldn't help but wish I was on a battlefield somewhere, doing whatever it was that soldiers were supposed to do.

"I've got about an hour or so before I have to get back," I replied with a sigh.

She nodded, reaching over to a canvas bag that was propped against one of the roots of our tree. She dug into the bag, pulling out two sandwiches wrapped in brown paper and handed me one. "I brought us lunch."

I smiled, nuzzling into her neck before placing kisses along her jaw. "Thank you. Although, as we've only got an hour, I can think of better things to do with the time than eat..."

She ran her fingers through my hair, tilting her neck and granting me better access, chucking her own little brown package to one side. "Well since you put it that way..."

She twisted in my lap to face me, leaning in for another kiss as I ran my hands up against her back. It had felt like forever since I'd been able to touch her like this. We had to be so careful. Sookie had instigated a "no physical contact in the house" rule very early on, after Amelia had almost walked in on me stealing a kiss in the kitchen.

I couldn't disagree with her logic. That episode had scared us both enough to ensure that we were extra careful, but in practice, and particularly during a fairly wet and cold first few months of the year, it had meant that the chances for us to meet up and spend any quality time together were few and far between. I wasn't regretting our decision to give this a shot by any means, but to say that I was looking forward to the summer was an understatement.

I ghosted my hands down her sides, grazing across her breasts with my thumbs. I felt her arch into my touch as her tongue sought out mine. She lifted her leg across me, moving to straddle my lap, her dark green dress bunching up above her knees. I let out a heady moan as she pulled me closer to her, grinding slightly against my lap.

I moved one hand down to her thigh, tracing circles on her exposed stocking as I kissed her, gradually moving higher with every sweep of my fingers. I felt her shiver as my thumb finally grazed over her suspender strap and the bare skin of her upper thigh before my fingers danced along the hem of her underwear.

I couldn't suppress a frown as she pulled back, placing her hand on top of mine, stilling my progress.

"Eric," she whispered. "I can't—"

I shook my head, clearing it, as I ran my hand up her forearm reassuringly, soothing her. "I'm sorry, I know you're not ready yet. I got carried away. It's just I haven't had the chance to touch—"

She put her hands either side of my face, giving me a shy smile. "Eric, it's not even that..." She looked off into the distance for a moment, before summoning the courage to make eye contact again. "I want to... Everything you do to me feels so amazing..."

I couldn't stop myself from grinning hugely. She quirked an eyebrow at me and then rolled her eyes. I leant forward to kiss her nose, making her smile.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But, um, you know I haven't done _that_ before... or really anything really..."

I sighed, nodding my understanding. I wanted her so badly, ever since the first time I saw her, but I knew I couldn't rush her into this. I didn't want to.

"And you don't want your first time to be in a field, particularly while you worry that we could be discovered at any moment," I finished.

She gave me a sheepish smile. "Does that make sense?"

I pressed my lips against hers, briefly but tenderly. "Of course it does. It makes perfect sense and I don't want you to feel pressured..."

"Thank you," she whispered, snuggling into my chest again. "I'm sorry for getting you all worked up."

I brushed her hair from her face, as her eyes met mine. "Sookie, believe me, just being around you gets me all worked up. But this? Being to hold you like I am? This is everything." With a smile, I reached over to grab my sandwich. "So how about we eat our lunch and then make out like there's no tomorrow until it's time for me to go down to the harbour?"

She raised an eyebrow at me again, smirking a little. I'm not sure that she made that expression before, and at the back of my mind it made me happy that she had picked it up from me.

"Strictly over clothes only," I added, giving her my most innocent look. There was plenty that could be done through the fabric of her cotton dress, after all.

She smiled. "You're on, Major Northman."

0-0-0-0-0

I trudged back to the house to pick up Tray before heading down to the building works. Starting with the most logical place first, I popped my head into the kitchen. There were some dirty plates in the sink, signalling he'd been there, but no sign of him. With a huff, I traipsed up the stairs.

"Dauschen, we're going to be late if you don't get your shit together," I called out in German along the hallway.

I heard a scuffle behind his door as I approached. I pushed on the handle to open the door and was immediately repelled backwards as Tray slammed against it from the other side.

"What the fuck?"

"Hold on a minute. I'm just getting dressed," came a muffled shout from behind the door.

I glanced suspiciously at the doorframe. I'd seen Tray in the altogether a hundred times; there wasn't much room for modesty when you were in the army.

After a moment the door opened and Tray breezed out looking as scruffy as usual and a little flustered. I gave him a sideways glance. "Were you...?" I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

Tray shot me a challenging look. "Do you really want to discuss this?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "No, not really... Straight after lunch though. I guess you really do love Evie's cooking, huh?"

Tray punched me in the arm. "Fuck off, Northman."

I rubbed my muscle with a smirk. That had actually hurt. "It's fuck off, _Major_, to you... Come on, let's get back to work."

**Sookie – May 1941**

Eric and I had both been doing what we could to give our secret relationship a chance but it wasn't easy.

I was constantly fearful that someone was going to find us out; we'd instigated a rule that we wouldn't kiss or engage in any physical contact in the house but I was still nervous whenever we met up. And whenever I was around him with other people, I had to keep reminding myself that nobody knew, to force myself not to reach out and touch him all the time. Bill hadn't said anything else after that day in the pub but I was particularly careful that we didn't do anything to raise suspicion around him.

Worries aside, the time I did get to spend with Eric made me ridiculously happy. I was falling for him, hard, if I hadn't done so already. I longed to tell the world about how I felt, even to just be able to discuss him with my friends, but I knew that would never be an option for me.

I didn't know whether it was because I now had secrets that I couldn't share with my friends, but I felt that my relationship with Pam and Barry had deteriorated somewhat over the past few months. They always seemed to be deep in some sort of whispered conversation that would stop whenever I approached. Sam was involved too, although he had enough manners at least to smile and change the subject so I felt slightly less like an outcast. For a couple of weeks I was terrified that one of them had seen me with Eric, but when I casually mentioned their weird behaviour to Amelia, she had noticed the same thing, so I decided that it was just me feeling a little paranoid.

I arrived at the pub for my shift, propping up my bike by the back door of the pub. I peered through the window, able to hear some kind of commotion coming from inside. I frowned; it was only four o'clock in the afternoon and it was very rare that we saw any kind of fight in the pub even late in the evening.

I pushed through the back door, past the storeroom, on my way into the bar area. I could hear a woman's voice shrieking and lots of other people shouting. No one was behind the bar. I paced out into the public area to find out what was going on.

The woman's voice belonged to Arlene and she was shouting obscenities at someone. Debbie Pelt was standing just behind her, chiming in every now and again. I noticed Pam, stood there watching the commotion, along with Barry, Andy and a few of the locals. They were stood in a circle, crowded around something or someone. I stepped out from behind the bar and felt my heart stop as I took in the rest of the scene.

Amelia was slumped on the floor on her knees. Her face was blotchy, streaked with tears, her expression full of anguish. I pushed through the circle, running over to her, crouching down beside her, immediately pulling her into my arms.

"Amelia? What's going on? What's wrong?" I pleaded.

She sobbed incoherently against my shoulder as I ran my hands over her face, checking that she was okay. She had a huge red mark across one cheek, like she had been slapped. I smoothed her hair away, trying to take a closer look. It was then that I noticed what else had been done to her.

Someone had cut off her hair.

I couldn't hold in the gasp as I took in the sight around me. Amelia's curls laying around her in rough clumps. Her hair had been hacked away, leaving an irregular bob, shorter in some parts than others.

I glared at Arlene, who was watching me, her arms folded defensively. I could see the gleam of steel - the scissors - tucked under her elbow. So it was her. No doubt Debbie had helped. But what the hell had the rest of them been doing?

"What the fuck is going on here?" I demanded, pulling Amelia closer, looking around me in disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you all?"

"She's a God-damn Nazi whore," Arlene spat.

I fliched, feeling Amelia stiffen against me as I held her protectively. "What the fuck are you talking about?" I shouted, my voice full of despair. I looked at Pam, who was glaring at me defiantly. Barry refused to make eye contact with me.

"Pam?" I pleaded. "What's all this about?"

"It's true, Sookie," she replied impassively, hand on her hip. "Debbie saw her."

I spun my head in Debbie's direction, glowering at her. "What exactly did you fucking see, Debbie?"

Debbie looked around her nervously. I heard Arlene urging her on under her breath, and I had to hold back the impulse to stand up and smack her in the mouth.

"Well?" I demanded, impatiently.

"I saw her down by the harbour. She was chatting to that Gerry who's staying at your farm. The big one."

I looked at her incredulously. "Dauschen? So... so what? He lives with us. She's allowed to bloody talk to him, you stupid cow."

Debbie gave me a triumphant smile. "Talking wasn't all they were doing," she sneered.

I felt my heart sink, but gave her a look that dared her to continue.

She looked to Arlene for encouragement. Arlene nodded that she go on. "He had her hand and led her away from the rest of the Gerry soldiers. I could see they were being careful. She was looking around her, she didn't think anyone could see but something was suspicious about them so I watched." My mouth went dry as Debbie continued. I focussed on a lock of Amelia's hair, discarded on the patterned carpet. "And then he kissed her. He pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. For a long time too. It wasn't the first time either, you could just tell."

I ran a hand over my hair, hissing a heavy breath through my teeth. Amelia had stilled beside me but she still hadn't said anything. I glanced at her, her head slumped against my shoulder. It seemed she wouldn't defend herself, so I did the only thing I could, I went on the offensive.

"You should all be bloody ashamed of yourselves. All of you. Amelia is supposed to be your friend." I looked at Pam. "I don't even know who you are any more that you could stand by and let this happen..."

Pam took a step forward, an incensed look on her face. "Hold on a second Sookie. It's Amelia who is getting it on with a German soldier. You don't know who I am? She's the one fucking the enemy. Frankly, I'm surprised at you condoning this."

I winced at her words, shaking my head with disgust as I wrenched myself up from the pub floor. "I'm not condoning anything Pam," I snapped. "I just think it would have taken more than a story from this lying slut before I assaulted one of my best friends and cut her fucking hair off."

"Who are you calling a slut?" Debbie screeched, lurching forward towards me, while Arlene grabbed her arm. "You've got a bloody nerve. I know what I saw. She's the slut."

"And Amelia hasn't exactly denied it, has she?" Arlene joined in, her face twisted with scorn.

My stomach leapt nervously; Arlene had a point there although, of course, I'd never acknowledge it. "We don't need to stand around and listen to this," I replied, indignantly. "Barry, help me to get Amelia home." I grabbed my cousin by the arm, gently pulling her to her feet. She was trembling and looked like she was in shock.

I glanced at Barry and his eyes shot to meet mine. "Sook..." he started, his voice trailing off. He shook his head, his eyes trained on his feet.

I looked around me, suddenly realising that the pub had been filling up during our altercation. Everyone was watching us, whispering, judging. Debbie and Arlene had exultant looks on their faces. Angry tears started to spill down my cheeks; the whole town would know about this within the hour.

I felt my stomach churning as I pleaded with my friend. "Barry?" I whispered. "Please?"

He shook his head again, his eyes heavy with anxiety. "I'm sorry, Sookie. I can't. What she's done... It's too... I can't."

I felt my bottom lip tremble, my throat closing up with emotion as I wrapped my arm around Amelia's waist, half-dragging her towards the door. "Come on sweetie," I whispered. "I'll get you home."

She nodded, saying nothing, her eyes glazed over as dozens of pairs of eyes watched us leave.

The coolness of the outside air hit us and I felt bile rise in my throat. I tried to breath deeply, to level out my thundering heart. We just had to get home and then I could break down. I looked around me, anxiously, not sure how I was going to get Amelia all the way back to the farm. Suddenly, I caught Bill walking across the Square towards us and I felt myself exhale with relief.

He approached us, his eyes full of concern. "Sookie?" he asked, looking from me to Amelia and back again. "What's going on?"

I blinked back fresh tears. "Bill, I need to get her home. Do you have the van?"

He nodded. "I just made a delivery to Stan's. What happened here?"

I shuffled towards him, still propping Amelia up. "I'll tell you on the way. Right now, I just need to get her out of here."

He nodded again, understanding the urgency from my voice. "Here, let me?" he offered kindly.

Bill reached for Amelia, lifting her easily, bridal style, and leading me across the Square. He opened the van door, placing her gently on the front seat. I clambered in beside her, pulling her into my arms as I stroked a whisp of her hair away from her brow. She flinched as I ran my hand over her cheek; it looked like it was already starting to bruise.

"It'll be okay," I soothed, lying to her, lying to myself. "It'll be alright."

0-0-0-0-0

I managed to get Amelia to the house before news reached my aunt and uncle. I knew Amelia was in no state to talk to her parents. Hearing my aunt shuffling around in the kitchen, I put a finger to my lips, directing Bill to take her upstairs. With a sigh, I slipped off my shoes and padded into the kitchen.

Auntie Evie was washing dishes as I glanced around the kitchen. My uncle was cleaning his boots at the kitchen table.

He looked up at me with a curious frown. "You're home early, Sook?"

I nodded, looking over to my aunt. "Auntie, can you sit down a second?" She regarded me with a puzzled expression but removing her apron and settling down next to her husband. "There's something I need to tell you. Both of you."

My uncle's face went through a myriad of expressions as I explained to them what had happened in the pub; Evie just cried, wiping her tears with the corner of her apron. I noticed Bill had crept into the room, part way through my story. He'd already got a brief version of events in the van and he stood at the back of the kitchen waiting patiently as I explained the rest.

When I had finished, I looked back towards him. "Is she...?"

"She's asleep, I think," he confirmed. "I covered her with a blanket."

I nodded. "Thank you, Bill."

He smiled kindly. I forced myself to reciprocate, I wanted to. I wasn't sure what I would have done without him today.

Uncle Cope's fist slammed down on the kitchen table with a bang, causing me to jump. "I want that Gerry bastard out of my house," he wheezed. "Today."

Evie nodded looking between us, her eyes wide. "Oh God. Everyone will talk. What are we going to do?"

I looked at my aunt and uncle, their faces twisted with distress and shame, not knowing what to do, what to say to make it better. "We don't know if it's even true," I urged. "It could just be a nasty rumour."

Bill gave me a reassuring smile. "She's right Cope. This could all blow over in a day or two."

My uncle looked at us as if we were insane. "They cut off her _hair_," he seethed. "I want him OUT."

I nodded, slumping in the chair beside him, my head in my hands. "We need to speak to Major Northman."

0-0-0-0-0

I knocked gently on Eric's door before sneaking in and shutting the door softly behind me.

He was sat in bed, shirtless, and gave me a startled look as he glanced up from the book he was reading.

"Sook, you shouldn't be—"

I started to tremble, tears careening down my cheeks. "Eric, I... Oh God."

He held his arms out to me as I scurried across the room and into his lap, seeking out the comfort of his touch. He held my face between his huge hands, wiping the tears that were falling with the pad of his thumb.

"She's gone?" he whispered.

I nodded, my throat catching. "They sent her to stay with Uncle Cope's cousin in St Mary. I don't know if it's the right decision for her to leave like that. It makes her look guilty..."

"I'm so sorry."

I tilted my head to one side, trying to read his expression. "Did you know?"

He shook his head, a frown wrinkling his brow. "I had a suspicion, nothing firm. But no, I didn't know. Your aunt and uncle won't believe that of course. I think I need to keep out of your uncle's way for a while..."

"Have you spoken to Dauschen?" I asked with a sigh. This was such an enormous mess.

He nodded. "Briefly. I've got him set up at the Bellefleurs for now but our Colonel's going to find out. And when he does, he's going to hit the roof..." He looked away for a second, his voice barely audible. "He wanted to see her."

I shook my head, leaning into his shoulder. "It would just make things worse."

"You spoke to her?"

I shrugged. "She said she loved him." I laughed bitterly. "Who am I to judge?... God Eric, what are we doing?"

A hurt expression danced across Eric's face for an instant. "I don't know," he admitted after a pause.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the pain wash over me. "I love you," I whispered, another tear escaping over my cheek.

"I love you." Eric pulled me into his arms, scooting down onto the bed and I nestled into his chest. "Stay with me?" he whispered, stroking my hair.

I nodded against his chest. I wasn't sure I could leave him now, even if I wanted to. "Just for tonight."

**A/N: Thanks for reading guys. I'd love to hear your thoughts... **


	6. Chapter 6 Fallout

**A/N: Hi everyone. Thank you so much for your reviews for the last chapter – I loved reading all your wonderfully insightful comments. **

**So sorry that this chapter kept you waiting a little longer than usual but work has been a real nightmare. The next update won't take nearly so long, I promise. **

**Anyway, it's finally here and it's a bit of a mammoth one. So enjoy...**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

_**"It is better to be hated for what you are than loved for what you are not." André Gide **_

**Eric – May 1941**

Amelia and Tray's secret was out, and in the days following, the fallout was immense.

I'd sent Tray to stay with the Bellefleurs. Given the outcry amongst the locals, I was mindful that, for now at least, I couldn't send him to another house with a young woman in it and it was the only place I could think of that could take another officer at such short notice. Unfortunately, it was also the same house Andre was staying at, and I knew it wouldn't take long for the Colonel to start asking questions.

Tray was called into Andre's office two day's later. As it turned out, he didn't need to figure anything out at all; Copley Broadway had visited at the Colonel's office that morning and made a formal complaint against Captain Dauschen.

I waited outside the office, crouched down with my hands on my thighs, trying not to look like I was eavesdropping. The sun was streaming in through the window, highlighting tiny particles of dust as they floated to the ground. I watched them, disinterestedly, wincing as I heard Andre's muffled bellow. From what I could make out, Tray was saying very little. It was probably for the best.

Finally, the room went quiet and I heard the sound of the heavy oak door scraping across the parquet floor of Andre's office. I leapt to my feet, springing around to face Tray as he trudged out, looking more dejected than I had ever seen him. He looked like he had lost weight in just two days, dark circles under his eyes belying a lack of sleep.

He looked at me as he made his way out of the office. I gave him a sympathetic half-smile, waiting as the door slammed behind him, before I spoke.

"How did it go?" I asked quietly, coming up along side him as he walked out of the building into the sunshine. It was such a glorious day, it didn't fit the mood at all.

He shook his head, his mouth pulled into a tight line. "Much as to be expected."

We walked in silence for a second. I turned my face up towards the sun, wondering how everything could have turned to shit so quickly, so entirely.

"Have you seen her?" Tray asked after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. They've sent her to stay with an aunt, or a cousin or something, on the other side of the island. Sookie is not sure it's the best idea, but after what they did to her..."

Tray frowned, nodding his head solemnly.

We walked past a group of local women, talking in low voices outside the greengrocer's shop. The chattering stopped as we approached, their eyes finding the pavement. Tray cursed under his breath as we walked past them and I glanced at him questioningly. He ignored me, not breaking his pace, but shook his foot slightly as he walked.

I eyed his boot. "Did one of them just...?"

I glanced at the women behind me, trying to work out which one of them had just spit at us. Two of the women stared defiantly at me, mumbling insults under their breath. I stopped walking, incensed.

"Ignore them," Tray growled.

My eyes shot to his, full of anger. "But—?"

"Please Eric," Tray pleaded, defeatedly. "Just ignore them. You'll only make it worse."

I nodded, giving the women one last look of disdain, as I tried to memorise their faces. Not only was their behaviour vile, it was foolish; a number of officers wouldn't have let it pass. With a sigh, I resumed walking, taking two quick steps to keep up with Tray who had paced ahead.

"They'll get over it," I tried to reassure him. "People have short memories..."

Tray stopped walking, looking down at his feet. "Eric, look, I'm leaving," he said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?"

"Andre's transferring me to Eastern Europe. Apparently, we're mounting an invasion East, I think we're moving against Stalin. He said to look at it as an 'opportunity to excel' rather than a punishment but it was fairly clear which one it really was."

I tried interrupting again. "Tray. I'll speak to Andre. Shit, I'm sure we can work something out..."

Tray shook his head. "No. I don't want you to, Eric... The Colonel's right in a way. I need to get away from Jersey. Maybe seeing some action will do me some good."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Maybe, but fucking Russia?"

Tray shrugged. "Everywhere I look here, I see Amelia..."

I frowned. I wasn't sure if I should ask. Tray and I didn't discuss feelings. Sex? Maybe, sometimes. Feelings? Never. But if I didn't ask, then who would?

"You loved her?"

Tray nodded, looking away. "Yes... But look where it got us." He glanced behind him. "You saw what those women were like, Eric... If I leave, she might be able to get her life back."

I raised my eyebrow reflexively. I wasn't so sure it would make a difference.

He shook his head. "I have to try Eric. I can't make this any worse for her."

I nodded and we walked in silence, making our way without discussion towards the Bellefleur house.

"When do you head East?" I asked after a while, pulling some leaves off the hawthorn bush that marked the Bellefleur perimeter.

"Tomorrow," Tray admitted.

I shook my head. "I can't believe this. Can't you at least wait a few days to see if things settle down?"

Tray shrugged. "I'm pretty sure Andre's orders weren't that flexible." He snorted, his face suddenly breaking out into a boyish smile. "When the war is over, you'll have to promise me that you'll come to Bavaria..."

I smiled. "I wouldn't miss it... Tell your mother I'll be expecting that famous roast chicken of hers."

He laughed. "It's a promise."

We stood there for a second, the silence growing heavy between us. Finally, I saluted my friend. "Take care Captain Dauschen. Try not to get yourself killed, alright?"

He mirrored my salute with a grin. "You too Major."

He opened the gate and I watched him as he made his way up the path towards the huge Georgian manor house. He went to pull the bell but paused, his hand hovering in mid air.

He turned around to face me, his voice full of concern. "Look Eric... be careful okay?"

I regarded him quizzically; I wasn't the one off to the Eastern front after all. "I'm sure I'll be fine," I replied, dismissively. "I'm not the one about to take on Stalin."

"That's not what I mean," he sighed. "Just promise me you'll be careful."

His eyes caught mine and I felt myself pale at the sincerity of his concerned expression. Finally I nodded, understanding. "I will. I promise."

**Sookie – May 1941**

The weeks after Amelia left were hard on all of us. With my cousin in St. Mary, the house seemed deathly quiet. My sadness at the way she had had to leave was compounded by the fact that I just missed her so very much.

I know my aunt missed her too. Ever since we were children Amelia had been the one to test Auntie Evie's boundaries, even more so than Jason, and their mother-daughter relationship had always been slightly fraught with confrontation. Now though, my aunt seemed listless, confused, never far away from a fresh bout of tears, as if she had lost something but couldn't quite figure out what it was. I could recognise how she felt because I felt it too.

It was Uncle Cope, however, who seemed to be the most affected by Amelia and Tray's relationship coming to light. Always youthful and boyish, despite his years, my uncle seemed to have aged by a decade overnight. His skin had taken on a pallid greyish tinge from a lack of sleep, his eyebrows set in a permanently disappointed frown. While outwardly he directed his anger in Dauschen's direction, first by evicting him from the farm and then by reporting Tray to his commanding officer, I could tell that, in truth, he really blamed himself. He felt responsible for allowing Amelia to be so trusting and open and felt guilty and ashamed that he had been too indulgent with Tray and Eric in the house. In his eyes, he had allowed the situation to develop as it had and now his little girl was paying the price.

Once Tray was gone, Eric bore the brunt of my uncle's dissatisfaction, the friendly rapport they had developed in the last year instantly disintegrating. Uncle Cope barely even looked at Eric any more, let alone spoke to him. Two nights after Tray had moved out, Bill and I sat through a painfully awkward dinner, as my uncle glared at Eric, eating his food in a stony silence, and my aunt spent most of the meal in tears. After that night, dinnertime was set an hour early. My aunt explained that, as it was summer, Bill and Uncle Cope needed their meals earlier as they had been getting up before sunrise to work on the farm. In reality we all knew it was so that dinner was generally over by the time Eric got back from the harbour, so we didn't have to eat with him.

It really distressed me that my aunt and uncle were blaming Eric by association. I wanted to shake them both, to get them to see the light. Eric, on the other hand, seemed to just accept their behaviour and, in a way, that made me angrier on his behalf. He didn't blame my aunt and uncle for their reaction at all. The way he saw it, Amelia was their daughter and she was suffering; if he and Tray hadn't come to Jersey, that wouldn't have been the case. It wasn't lost on me that I was now defending the invading officers and he was explaining why it was okay to tarnish them all with the same hateful brush. In any case, Eric said, we really had no right to be aggrieved - we both knew the reality was that he wasn't any different to Tray, just as I wasn't any different to Amelia. We just hadn't been caught.

I had missed my first three shifts following the confrontation with Arlene and Debbie. I'd lied, telling Sam that I was ill but I was far too emotional, and too angry, to be around them. And I still hadn't spoken to Barry or Pam. If truth be told, I was also scared to go back. I knew the whole of St. Helier would still be talking about Amelia. I was under no illusion, after the scene in the Dog & Bottle, that that meant they'd also be talking about me.

I came home from a walk one afternoon about a week or so after Amelia left to find Sam waiting for me in the kitchen. He was sat down with Bill at the kitchen table.

I gave Sam a nervous smile. He hadn't been in the pub the day Amelia had been attacked and I wasn't sure what his opinion of events would be. I had to suppose that the fact that he had come to the farm said something though.

"Hi Sam," I whispered.

"Hi cher," he replied with a smile and I felt my expression warm as he used his nickname for me. "You look like you're feeling a little better anyway."

I couldn't help but smirk at that; we both knew that I hadn't really been sick.

I sat down at the table as Bill poured me a cup of tea from the pot, giving me an encouraging smile. "So Sam's here to see when you'll be available to go back to work…" His voice was even but I could tell he was slightly nervous by the way he was avoiding eye contact, concentrating on fixing my tea.

My expression hardened instantly in reaction. "And I suppose this was your doing?" I glared at Bill, my voice full of resentment. He was supposed to be on my side. The only one, it sometimes felt like.

Sam reached over, putting his hand on my arm in a calming gesture. "Sookie, we _both_ thought it was time you came back. Bill was only looking out for you. We both care about you, we don't like to see you down."

I sighed, pulling gently away from Sam and frustratedly fixing a pin at the back of my hair. "Bill, I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head, angry at myself, angry at the whole damn situation. "You've been so good to us all this last week or so, I don't know why the hell I'm taking this out on you."

Bill gave me a sheepish smile. "Sookie, don't worry yourself. It's been an awful, awful time for everyone. We're all finding it tough. But Sam's right, we both care about you, and, well, we think you need to get back out there. You need to face everyone. Otherwise it's not just Amelia's life that has been ruined by all this."

I took a sip of my tea, staring emptily into my cup. Normally it soothed me, but not today. We were talking about Amelia almost as if she had died. But Bill was right, this really had affected so many people. My mind flitted briefly to what would happen if anyone found out about Eric and I. I knew with certainty that it would finish my uncle and aunt. And then there was Jason. He was out there fighting for his country. How could he not feel utterly betrayed by my actions?

I shook my head, trying to clear it. "I don't know if I can… I thought I'd feel better once things had had a chance to die down but I'm not sure I can do it, knowing what they'll be saying about Amelia, about me…" I could feel my throat scratch, thick with emotion. I looked down at my hands, willing the tears away.

"Look Sook, the only way that you're going to nip any rumours in the bud is to hold your head up high. Show them that you've nothing to be ashamed of." Sam frowned for a second as if considering what to say next. "I don't know whether the gossip about Amelia is true or not and, well, I'm not sure I want to... What I do know is that whether she kissed a Gerry soldier or not, Debbie and Arlene were out of line going as far as they did and I've told them that I won't tolerate that kind of behaviour in my pub again…"

"But—" I tried to interrupt.

Sam raised his hand. "No Sookie, please just hear me out. The longer you shy away from everyone like this, the worse it's going to get for you. It's just not right. You have done nothing wrong. You can't spend the rest of your life holed up here at the farm…"

I mumbled something under my breath about not being too sure about that.

Bill reached for my hand, taking it in his, and gave me a kind, reassuring smile. He palm felt warm against mine and I realised how much things had changed between us over the last week. Far from his touch being irritating or repellent to me, I realized that Bill made me feel safe, in a way that I hadn't felt since Jason had gone to war.

"I'll be there for you Sookie…" He looked to Sam. "We both will. But Sam's right, you need to be strong and do this sooner rather than later…"

I sighed again, slumping down in the chair, my head in my hands. "You're both right, I know you're

right. It's just not that easy… I guess I'm scared."

Bill gave my hand a squeeze. "I know, but you'll be fine. I promise."

We sat in silence for a moment until Sam spoke up, his voice gentle and low. "Pam and Barry both asked after you…"

I rolled my eyes. "I think it's a little late for them to start acting like friends now, don't you?"

Sam shook his head. "It's not for me to interfere, cher. I just thought you'd want to know."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Oh, so now you're not one for interfering…"

He laughed, getting up from the table. "Hey, I didn't say I was consistent... You're down for a shift tomorrow night. Will I see you there?"

I looked to Bill who gave me a nod of encouragement and then turned to Sam and smiled. "Yes, I'll be there... But you better tell Arlene that if she comes within ten yards of me, it won't just be her fake red hair that I'll be chopping off…"

Sam raised his palms defensively. "Hey, she thinks she looks like Rita Heyworth…"

I put on my thickest Louisiana accent, one hand on my hip. "Well thinkin' sumthin' don't necessarily make it so."

"Yes ma'm," Sam agreed, mimicking me, and Bill and I both laughed.

Suddenly Sam stopped smiling, his posture stiffening. I saw Bill glance towards the doorway, a slight frown dancing across his features, and I followed his line of sight. Eric was stood there, looking between us all, an expression I couldn't quite discern on his face. The first couple of buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a glimpse of his broad chest, and he'd caught a little sun. I felt my insides flutter at the sight of him and I turned away, trying to conceal my reaction in front of Bill and Sam.

"Major Northman," I said somewhat formally as I got up. "You're back early." I realised that I had deliberately avoided using the word 'home' in front of my friends.

"Sookie." He gave me a polite nod. "I, er, had to pick something up," he explained vaguely.

I cursed internally, knowing that he would have popped back on the chance that I was free and could get away. I tried to hide my blush at the thought but I could detect a slight smile playing at Eric's lips.

"Mr Compton," he said, turning to Bill with a formal nod. Bill muttered a stilted hello in reply.

I gestured towards Sam. "Major, I'm not sure if you've met my boss, Sam Merlotte."

Eric's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as he gave his attention to Sam. He nodded again, curtly. "Mr. Merlotte."

Sam's expression was blank, his mouth set in a grim line as he grunted a greeting in Eric's direction.

"Anyway, Sookie, I'd better be off," he said, forcing a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam pulled me into a quick hug and I could feel, rather than see, Eric glaring at us. I tried to relax but I could feel myself go rigid with the awkwardness of it all.

"I'll see you tomorrow Sam." I tried to keep my voice even as I extracted myself from his embrace, my eyes on the floor as I walked past Eric to show Sam out.

0-0-0-0-0

I took a deep breath as I propped my bike up against the wall of the pub. Sam was waiting for me by the back door and he held it open, expectantly, as I made my way towards him.

"You weren't kidding," I joked nervously.

"I told you I'd be there for you, and I will," he replied with a smile. "Relax, Sook, it will be fine."

I felt my pulse quicken as I made my way through the back of the pub towards the bar. The bar was busy; I could hear people laughing and talking, the smell of stale smoke snaking its way towards me.

Sam led the way into the bar. Pam was serving someone to the left of the bar and I could see Barry stacking glasses up by the sink. The pub really was packed, especially for a week night, and I wondered briefly if some of the customers were here for reasons other than beer. My stomach was churning and I could feel my palms begin to sweat. I exhaled heavily, trying to calm myself.

As soon as I stepped out from behind Sam, the bar descended into a hush. I felt myself colour as people whispered and nudged each other, some of them openly staring at me as I took my station at the other end to Pam. This had been a mistake; I couldn't do this. I instantly wanted to run but it was as if my feet were rooted to the spot. I could feel my mouth go dry with fear, tears beginning to prickle at my eyes as I took in the sea of faces. I had promised myself whatever happened I wouldn't cry. Not in public anyhow.

I didn't hear him the first time, I'd just caught sight of Arlene and Debbie at the back of the room, so he had to repeat himself.

"Pint of bitter please, Sookie."

I looked up at him, letting out a little whimper of relief. "Bill."

He smiled conspiratorially. "Told you I'd be here."

I looked down at his existing pint. It was still half full. "You're not done with that one yet," I said with a grateful grin.

He shrugged. "It's a little warm."

I could feel everybody watching our exchange. I mouthed a silent thank you as I pulled his pint.

"When you're done with Bill, I'll have a pint as well please, Sookie." I looked along the bar to see Andy Bellefleur propped against it, regarding me with a lop-sided grin.

I smiled gratefully. "Coming right up, Andy."

By the time I'd poured Andy's beer and given him his change, the pub seemed to be bustling again. Everyone was talking, probably about me, but at least they were talking and not staring.

The night carried on much in that vein. Arlene stayed out of my way. Debbie shot me a number of frosty glances but I ignored her. At one point Pam called out across the bar, telling a scowling Debbie that if the wind changed, her face would stay like that. She turned to me afterwards, giving me a wink and a hesitant smile. I knew that in Pam's world, that constituted an apology. I just didn't know how to feel about it. I put Pam to the back of my mind until later, concentrating on pouring pints and keeping my head held high and my smile fixed in place until closing.

Barry had stayed on Pam's side of the bar all night, avoiding conversation, deliberately not meeting my eye. When I left to make my way home at the end of the night, he was waiting for me next to my bike, leaning up against the wall in the shadows.

I sighed when I saw him. I'd survived but I was exhausted, I didn't need another confrontation. "What do you want Barry?" I snapped.

He looked at me, a flash of surprise crossing his face as he interpreted my tone. "I thought I'd walk you home?" he offered with a shrug.

It was my turn to be surprised. He wanted to be friends? I frowned; I just wasn't sure it was that easy.

"Actually Bill's got the van," I replied, feigning nonchalance. "I was just going to load my bike in back."

"Bill?" Barry wrinkled his nose with distaste, much like Amelia would. Or would have done, a week ago.

"Yes Bill," I said defiantly, reaching for my bike and starting to manoeuvre it around. "As it turns out, you really do find out who your friends are when it comes to a crisis. And Bill happens to be one of mine."

Barry grabbed the bike at the saddle, hindering my movement. "Sookie, please. Just hear me out. Please?"

I let out a resentful huff, forcing the bike back up against the wall. I turned to face him, crossing my arms in front of me. "Bill's waiting. You have one minute."

He nodded. "Sookie, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I know I messed up. I'm sorry that I didn't help you that day. I was confused and I—"

"Confused?" I spat, my temper flaring. "Barry, you let them assault Amelia. She's your friend too. Or at least she was. And then you just left me to deal with it. On my own. You were supposed to be my friend. No. More than that. I don't know how to describe what you were."

He nodded, his eyes filled with sorrow. "We've always been in it together."

I threw my hands into the air. "And you just pissed all over that."

"Sookie, I—"

I interrupted him, on a roll now. "And let's not even pretend that you haven't been acting weird for weeks. You and Pam and your secret looks and conversations..."

Barry looked a little worried for a second. "I can't talk about that, Sookie."

I rolled my eyes, giving him a disdainful snort. "Of course not."

Barry shook his head, spotting a weed growing out of the concrete by the drain and poking at it with his shoe. "You say she's my friend but..." His voice trailed off. "Look, things are getting worse Sookie. Stan and Isobel have been told they can only open the shop for one hour a day. I mean it's bad enough that the Gerries have taken control and they've lost half their customers, now they can hardly open at all. And you've heard what they're doing in those camps on Aldernay... They've got Jews there Sookie. It could be me next... And then I find out about Amelia and, well, I'm sorry I fucked up but I just can't condone it."

"But Tray and Eric aren't like that," I defended. "They're just soldiers."

He shook his head, raising his voice, his expression full of incredulity. "_Tray_ and _Eric_? God, listen to yourself Sookie. You always see the good in people, and normally that's your best quality, but stop being so fucking naïve. Tray and Eric are _Nazis_, Sookie. Nazis. Whatever way you look at it, they are the enemy. And Amelia got involved with the enemy. She betrayed us all."

I sighed again. I wanted to scream at him but I felt my defiance seeping out of me like warm water. How could I judge Barry? I had no idea how frightened he must be.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you," I whispered after a moment. "I'm so sorry."

Barry approached me and I could see the pained expression on his boyish face. "I'm scared, Sookie," he whispered.

I nodded, solemnly, pulling him into a hug, wanting to comfort him.

"I know," I whispered. "Me too."

0-0-0-0-0

Two days later, I took the van and went see Amelia in St. Mary. After taking tea and exchanging polite conversation with Copley's cousin Maxine, Amelia offered to show me the garden so that we could have a bit of time alone.

"So how are things going with Maxine?" I asked with a slight grimace. I was exhausted already, the woman hardly came up for air.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "She's an even bigger busybody that my mum. And the incessant chatting... urghh." She smiled wistfully for a second. "But she's kind enough, I suppose... She's pretty religious. I think she's taken me on as some kind of pet project. She feels like she's got to rescue me from the perils of Satan."

I laughed. "Little does she know..."

Amelia chuckled. "I think she's just lonely really. Hoyt, her son, do you remember him?"

I nodded. We had seen Maxine and Hoyt a bit more when we were kids but I wasn't sure that her and my aunt got on too well. "Vaguely."

"Well he's gone off to war. He's in the Far East somewhere. I think she likes having someone else in the house to fuss with."

I shrugged. "I can understand that."

Amelia gestured to a stone bench that was positioned under a pretty little archway, covered in climbing flowers. Maxine clearly had very green fingers. It was a beautiful garden.

We sat down facing each other on the bench and I reached forward, twisting a lock of Amelia's hair through my thumb and finger. She's had the length evened out and now was sporting a very short, but very chic, bob. Like a movie star Joan of Arc. She looked a lot better all round since last time I saw her.

"It looks good on you," I whispered.

Amelia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Arlene really should go into business for herself."

I crinkled up my nose. "Who in their right mind would get their hair done by Arlene, the state of hers?"

Amelia laughed, pulling me into a hug. "God I missed you, Sook."

I nodded. "I know, me too. It's not the same without you there."

She snorted. "Well bored as I am here, I wouldn't be expecting me home any time soon. In fact I've been thinking about it and, as soon as this bloody war's over, I'm off this God-forsaken island for good."

I winced a little at her bitter tone. "Amelia..."

"No I mean it Sook. London, or maybe America even. I'm destined for bigger things than Jersey."

I smiled. "Well if you end up in Louisiana, I have a house you can borrow..."

"Thanks. Although I'm thinking small town country living probably isn't for me."

I laughed again. "I think you could be right."

We chatted away while Amelia greedily munched on the box of Auntie Evie's cookies I had brought for her. I could tell that life at Maxine's was a little tougher than it had been at the farm. They were having to go without quite a lot, and there'd been no milk for tea earlier. I made a note to tell Uncle Cope to bring extra provisions when he visited. He would not be happy to hear that his daughter was going hungry. I filled Amelia in on things at home, about my going back to the pub, about Barry, Pam and Bill. We didn't talk about Dauschen. She didn't ask and I was glad that I didn't have to tell her yet that he'd been sent East.

When it got to about four, I gave her another hug, preparing myself to leave. "I should go," I said apologetically. "I've got stuff to do at home."

She nodded. "Apparently Mum and Dad are coming at the weekend. Hopefully it'll be when Maxine's at church or something."

I laughed. "And I'll be back next week. Maybe we could go down to the beach or something then?"

"That'd be nice. I haven't done too much exploring to be honest. Apparently there are some amazing caves nearby."

"Okay then." I hugged her again as we made our way to the side gate, leading to the front of the house. Maxine had gone to the post office so I didn't have worry about her chewing off my ear when I went to say goodbye.

As I stepped through the gate, Amelia grabbed my hand. "Look Sookie, I know that this sounds ridiculous coming from me of all people, but you need to stay away from Eric."

My heart stopped. I looked at her, my face frozen in shock. "What?" I finally managed to splutter.

She smiled. "It's abundantly clear that you have feelings for him... And that he feels the same."

I could feel myself blanch. I felt a little dizzy.

"Well to me it is," she corrected, squeezing my fingers in reassurance. "You're doing a pretty good job for the rest of the world. I guess if anyone else had a clue, you be shipped off into exile like me... But look, you've always been smarter than I am. So just stay away from him."

She sighed, fluffing her hand through her hair. "I loved Tray, I honestly think I did, but when I look around me... I'm not sure that it was worth what I lost. Sookie, people will find out. I should know."

I recovered myself, smoothing down the pleats of my cotton dress. My head was swimming. I wanted to tell Amelia everything but, even now, I knew I shouldn't. The secrecy was everything, it kept me cautious.

Finally, I pulled her into a hug. "I'll be careful," I whispered.

She pulled back, looking into my eyes. Her expression was one of concern. "That's not what I asked."

I nodded. "I know."

0-0-0-0-0

I walked along the street to the van, which was parked just around the corner from Maxine's cottage. As I approached, I recognised Eric's tall frame leaning up against the side it. Out of habit, I looked around me, and then skipped over to him.

"What are you doing here?" I beamed. I took him in. He wasn't wearing a uniform, just beige slacks with a short-sleeved white shirt and dark aviator sunglasses. I tried not to stare. He looked delicious. "And in civvies, no less. I didn't even know you had real clothes..."

He laughed, pulling me into his arms. I glanced around me again, satisfying myself that there was no one about. "I brought a few things back from Berlin," he murmured, brushing a kiss across my cheek. "Don't worry Sookie. No one knows us here and, even if they did, I'm not in uniform."

I scoffed. "You do tend to stand out you know. I think you'd still manage to get tongues wagging uniform or no."

He laughed, leaning in for another kiss. "I thought we might be able to spend a little time together, try to be a bit more normal outside of St. Helier."

I smiled. "That sounds good, but we need to move from here. Maxine, Copley's cousin, is due back any minute. I don't need her trying to save my soul as well as Amelia's."

He nodded. "My bike's parked a little while away. I can collect it later. How about we take the van and find ourselves a quiet spot somewhere?"

"I'd like that," I whispered.

We climbed into the van, agreeing I should drive, just in case. We sat there in comfortable silence, Eric suggesting every now and again that I take a certain turning. He'd been up this way when they'd first arrived in Jersey and seemed to know it better than I did.

"Amelia knows," I said quietly after a moment. Eric looked at me with a frown. I could see that he was wondering if I'd told her or not. "Well, she knows there's something between us. I didn't tell her and she doesn't know what or how much..."

He sighed. "That figures...I mean I'm not surprised. Tray told me to be careful, before he left. I wanted to think he didn't mean you, but I know that he did. I guess they must have figured it out together."

I nodded, pulling the van up alongside a pretty field. There were a patch of trees off to one side on a little hill. It was still sunny out but the trees provided a little shade. "I guess we just have to be more careful around people. If they can work it out, someone else might too... Bill was already suspicious."

Eric put his head in his hands, and shook his head. Finally he looked up at me, his cerulean gaze intense and full of sorrow. "Maybe we should stop this."

I shook my head, not quite believing what I was hearing. "No," I said firmly, instinctively.

He looked at me, pleadingly. "Sookie, hear me out. I love you, you know I do, but I can't help but think that all of this..." He gestured between us. "It's just selfishness on my part. The consequences are just to severe for you. How can I love you and chance that the same might happen to you as has happened to Amelia?"

"The consequences are severe for you too," I whispered, tears trickling down my cheek. I was suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. This couldn't be happening.

He shook his head stubbornly. "Andre would never send me to the Eastern Front. He wouldn't dare. Tray was right about that. There's one rule for me, and one for him." He sighed with disdain. "My father will make sure of that."

"It's not the point, Eric. No. That's my answer. I don't agree to this and I want you to stop talking that way..."

"You don't agree?" he asked. His tone was serious but a playful smile crossed his lips.

I shook my head vehemently. "No, I don't. You know, I've been listening to everyone's opinion on Amelia and Tray over the last week or so. Sam, Barry, my uncle, even Amelia herself. Well you know what, yes, lot's of shitty things are going on at the moment, and, yes, we are at war. But you and Tray are not monsters. I know that as well as I know anything..."

Eric was watching me rant, looks of amusement and disbelief dancing across his features in equal measure.

"The war won't be on forever, Eric. It can't be. Until then, we just have to be cautious. I mean we don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. You say you're safe, but what if you are shipped away? What if the British do take the islands back? Amelia and Tray taught me that we need to be extra careful, yes. But they also taught me that what we have might not last forever. I love you and I want to make most of the time we have together—"

I didn't get to say any more as Eric lips crashed against mine, his arms sweeping around my waist, pulling me into him. I swept my hands over his broad chest as he kissed me, pressing myself against him as I tried to wrap my thighs around him in the awkwardness of the space. I ran my hands across his delectable behind, squeezing him as I pulled him further into me.

Eric pulled away, breathless, after a moment. I could feel my heart thundering in my ears. "Sookie..." The tone of his voice had a warning to it, and he looked positively feral, as if he was ready to devour me.

I pressed myself against him again, grinding myself up against his obvious arousal, running my fingers through his hair as he let out a little muffled groan. I wanted him so much. I didn't think I would ever stop.

I ghosted my lips against his and met his heated gaze.

"Don't stop, Eric," I whispered. "I want this. I'm ready."

**A/N: Can you believe I left it there? No, me either! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories.**

**I also want to do a shout-out to Jeca013 and the girls at the TRU~blood~LUST Fangreaders Chat Room. If any of you have read either of my other stories Dark Side of the Light or Lifting the Veil, I'm delighted to say that these stories are being put under the Author's Spotlight and I'll be popping into the Chat Room to discuss them! Be great if you could join me...**

**See here for more details: Fangreaders (dot) blogspot (dot) com**

**DSOTL is on for tomorrow, Friday 11 March at 9pm GMT**

**LTV is on Thursday 31st March at 9pm GMT**


	7. Chapter 7 Capitulation

**A/N: Thank you so much for all your reviews – I can't tell you how much it means to me to read your thoughts and insight. It really does make writing this story a joy. Thanks too to all of you that have me on favourites and alerts – it's good to have you all on board.**

**A few of you pointed out in your reviews that the last few chapters have been rather angsty. This story has actually turned out angstier (not sure that's even a word!) than I had envisaged when I planned it out. Given the subject matter, I wouldn't say this story is ever going to be light and cheery but hopefully, as we progress, you'll see that Romance/Drama is the right classification. Make of that what you will!**

**So, anyway, I may have ended the last chapter on something of a cliffie... Sorry guys - I've been ready to post this chapter for ages but, as you all probably know by now, the site has been having all sorts of difficulties and hasn't allowed me to post every time I try! So infuriating! Anyway, thanks to All About Eric who told me how to sort the problem out**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

"_**Wrapped in the warmth of you, loving every breath of you. Still in my heart this moment, or it might burst..." - AJ Barlow/LA Rhodes**_

**Sookie – May 1941**

Eric stopped still, grasping my face between his hands. "Sookie, do you mean...?"

I nodded, leaning in to kiss him again. "I want you, Eric. I want to do this."

Eric eyes almost glowed with hunger and intensity as he kissed me, hard, before breaking the kiss leaving my lips bruised and wanting. He shook his head with a sigh. "We can't. Not in the van. You... you deserve more than this for your first time."

I had to stifle a giggle at Eric's frustrated expression as I nodded in understanding, sliding away from him, back across the seat. Hiding my grin I reached over the seats into the back of the van. He looked at me questioningly as I fumbled along the van floor until my hand came into contact with a blanket folded up against some empty crates. Suddenly, his face flashed with realisation; realisation followed by unadulterated lust.

"Come with me," I whispered, before slipping out of the van into the sun.

Eric followed me, his hand in mine, as I made my way across the field. I was shaking slightly, but more with adrenaline than fear. He was letting me lead him and his patience was calming. When we reached the trees I guided us behind one of the larger ones, our position obscured from the road, away from the eyes of any casual passers-by. The grass was sparser here in the shade but the ground was still soft underfoot. I kicked away a couple of twigs, clearing the area before I laid out the blanket on the cool ground.

I turned to face Eric, unsure of what to do next. Wordlessly, he toed off his shoes and went to kneel on the blanket, holding out a hand to me, inviting me to join him. I removed my sandals, leaving them neatly next to his and reached for his hand, sinking to my knees to face him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, rubbing little circles on my wrist with his thumb. I could feel goosebumps begin to spread across my skin, responding to his touch.

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

In an instant Eric had pulled me into his arms, wrapping around me with his body, and began kissing me like there was no tomorrow. I felt a rush of lust as his tongue grazed mine, his fingers dancing expertly over my body. After a moment, he pulled away, leaving me panting, resting back on his heels as regarded me.

"Take your hair down," he rasped. It was a command, not a request, and it felt like the tenor of his voice was reverberating through my core.

I could feel heat rising through my body as he watched me, his eyes intense like dark blue fire, while I reached back, removing the pins from my hair, slowly, one-by-one, until it fell around my shoulders in loose waves. I was still fully dressed, but in that moment I felt wanton, erotic, like I was showing Eric something of myself that no one else got to see. He leaned forward again to brush his lips against mine, threading his fingers through my hair.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, before ghosting kisses along my jaw.

His hands grazed over my hip and the small of my back, guiding me to lay down on the blanket, and I let out a little whimper as he settled himself between my legs pressing his hardness up against my thigh. He began kissing and nibbling at my neck as his hands slid up under my dress over the silk of my panties. I felt myself arching into him, desperate for maximum body contact, the contrast of his cool hands against the burn of my bare skin making me gasp.

Gaining confidence with every kiss, I ran my hands across his shoulders and down his broad, muscular back. I pulled out his shirt, roughly, and began to undo the buttons, my fingers eager and nervous. When his shirt was fully open, Eric sank back on his knees, shucking it from his shoulders. His body was perfect, lean and chiseled like a statue carved from marble and I had to stifle a moan as his muscles tensed and flexed at the movement.

Tentatively, I reached to the side of my dress, slowly lowering the hidden zip. Eric took my hands with a smile, pulling me gently into a sitting position, before easing my dress up over my head. He dipped his head and I felt his tongue and teeth scraping delectably over my clavicle as he reached behind me, releasing the clasp to my bra with ease.

Eric licked his lips slightly as he regarded my bare breasts, rising and falling with my shallow breaths. I had a moment to consider that his gaze, far from embarrassing me, made my insides tighten deliciously, but then all coherent thought immediately left my mind as Eric's lips made contact with the bud of my already hardened nipple. I heard myself moan as he toyed with my flesh, working each breast with his tongue and teeth, as his fingers began to skirt over the tops of my stockings, grazing the flesh at the apex of my thighs.

"Lay down Sookie..." Eric's voice was gravelly with lust. "I want to taste you."

I froze for a moment. I only had a vague idea of what he was suggesting and I could feel my body tensing slightly with nerves. Finally, slowly, I did as he asked, but my heart was thundering in my chest. I knew I wouldn't stop him though; I wasn't sure I could, even if I wanted to.

"Relax, lover," he murmured into my skin as he unsnapped my stocking. "This will feel good. I promise."

He ran his lips along the bare skin of my leg following in the wake of the flimsy fabric as he slid it down, inch by torturous inch, before discarding it casually to one side. The cool air danced across the trail that his mouth had left, eliciting a small shudder from me as he moved to my other thigh, his lips drifting over the soft flesh there.

"Trust me," he whispered, removing my other stocking in a similar manner. I gave him a little nod of encouragement as his fingers found the button at the side of my panties. He released it, and I lifted my body slightly, allowing him to slide them off.

I heard Eric take a sharp intake of breath as his eyes ran over me. I felt utterly exposed, but at the same time brazen, as I lay there bare and open for him. He reached forward running his hands slowly, tantalisingly, up each thigh, and I felt myself ache for him.

"Please, Eric," I heard myself plead, immediately flushing red at my immodesty.

He smiled at me, a teasing, playful smile as his hands snaked ever higher. Finally I felt him where I wanted him as he ran his thumb slowly along my slit, gently rubbing a small circle around the swollen bundle of nerves at the top. I shuddered at his touch, hissing with pleasure at the contact.

"God, Sookie," he whispered, his accent suddenly heavier than I had ever heard it. He dipped his head down to kiss my stomach. "You are so wet for me."

His kisses travelled South, his thumb still working me, until his mouth was positioned between my legs. I cried out, my hips bucking off the ground as he as he parted me, running his tongue between my folds, probing the swollen flesh there. He began to work me with his mouth and I moaned loudly as I felt one of his fingers enter me. Ripples of pleasure began to wash over me as he continued his assault, adding a second and a third finger, stretching me deliciously, his other hand palming across my stomach holding me still as I writhed against his face.

At the back of my mind, part of me knew I should be feeling ashamed, self-conscious, that I was here with this man, like this, naked and exposed to my very core. But I couldn't feel anything but rapture as every nerve ending in my body burned for him, hotter, brighter, as I ran my hands roughly through his hair, urging him on, pleading for more.

Finally Eric sucked my clitoris between his lips, hard, curling his fingers inside me in a way that made me scream his name. Pressure began to build low in my stomach. I had never felt anything so amazing, such intense pleasure. When my release came, it flooded over me in a giant wave; I felt myself clench around Eric's fingers, my vision hazy, my cries incoherent.

As I came down from my high, Eric was stretching out beside me, watching me, a self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face. He rubbed his thumb along his bottom lip before dipping it slowly into his mouth, scraping the pad with his teeth. I fought my reaction to look away, suddenly self-conscious; the gesture was almost too sensual, too intimate to watch.

"I have wanted to do that since the first day I met you," he whispered, moving to kiss me.

I could taste myself on his tongue as he kissed me and it made me brave. Tentatively, I reached for him in the space between our bodies, running my hand over the fabric of his trousers. Eric groaned into my mouth as I began to massage his hard length with my palm. I pulled away from the kiss, scraping my teeth over his earlobe before whispering in his ear.

"I want more, Eric..."

Eric didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled back slightly allowing me better access as I fumbled with his pants. Finally I pushed his slacks down his narrow hips, freeing him, as he shifted against me, eagerly kicking them off to one side.

"No underwear?" I asked with a smile.

He shrugged playfully. "I'm in the army."

With a deep breath I reached for him, grasping his thickness in my hand. He groaned throatily as I ran my hand along his long, hard length, my eyes full of want and curiosity. Encouraged by the noises he was making, I manoeuvred myself back underneath him, loving the feel of his bare skin against mine, and used my hand to brush him between my legs. I smiled as I felt him shudder at the feel of me, knowing that I made him feel that way. That we felt the same.

"Sookie..." Eric rasped, as he began to nudge inside me.

I felt myself tense at first, apprehension suddenly flaring. Eric stilled in response, glancing kisses across my nose and cheeks, giving me time, before edging forward a little further. I tried to breathe as I felt the pressure of him, not necessarily pain but certainly discomfort, and bit down on my lip, willing myself through it.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked, pausing, his face full of concern.

"I'm good," I murmured, pulling my thighs up a little higher and easing my hip towards him in encouragement. "Don't stop now."

As he inched inside me, slowly, tortuously, the discomfort finally subsided, the dull ache evolving into one of pleasure. Finally Eric stilled, all in, holding himself above me, his weight balanced on his elbows. I had never felt so filled, so utterly complete, as I shifted below him, adjusting to his size. He ran his fingers across my forehead stroking my hair from my brow. I looked into his eyes, my heart aching from the intimacy of the moment.

He grazed a delicate kiss across my lips. "I love you," he breathed, his eyes never leaving mine.

I smiled at his words and I knew that, whatever happened to us in the future, I would never regret this moment.

"And I love you," I whispered.

I ran an encouraging hand down his back and, slowly, he started to move inside of me. As I found the rhythm, I ground myself against him, meeting his hips with mine, urging him on. Finally he began to pull out, almost all the way, before pushing back into me with a force that made me groan. As I felt myself build towards another release, I grabbed his luscious behind with both hands, forcing him deeper. I cried out as he pushed his body up, hitching my leg higher around his hip, and increased the speed of his thrusts. I could feel him begin to swell inside me and intuition told me that he was close too. He reached between us finding my clitoris with his thumb. As he adjusted his angle slightly, grazing the spot inside me that he had found so expertly with his fingers before, I knew I was done for.

I cried out his name, no longer able to hold on. He kissed me, roughly, a clash of lips and teeth, as my orgasm shattered through me. Immediately Eric withdrew from me, emitting a curse in his native tongue as he found his own release, gushing warm fluids all over my stomach.

"Christ," he rasped, running a hand through his hair, before sinking his head into my chest.

"I know..." I breathed. My heart began to slow a little as I ran my hand dreamily across his shoulders, enjoying his weight on me. "That was just..." I couldn't describe it.

Eric chuckled into my skin, amused at my loss for words.

"Is it always like this?" I asked quietly, kissing the top of his head.

Eric lifted his head, shaking it ruefully, and then smiled. "It was a first for me too... Just not the same kind of first."

My heart ached a little at his acknowledgement and I reached to kiss him again. As I released him from our kiss, Eric arched his back, looking down at the mess between us.

He gave me a sheepish grin. "Um, sorry about that."

I looked between us. God, I'd been so caught up in the moment, I hadn't even considered the consequences. Thankfully Eric had been thinking rationally. "Don't be," I assured him. "Anyway, it... it makes me feel good that I had that effect on you," I added shyly.

Eric laughed, care-free and open, and arched down to kiss me. "In that case you should be feeling very good _indeed_ right about now, lover." He reached out for the corner of the blanket and used it to clean us both up as best he could before pulling me into his embrace. "I hope your aunt and uncle weren't planning a picnic any time soon," he joked, gesturing to the tartan blanket.

"Eric!" I snorted, slapping my hand against his arm. "That's really quite depraved."

He chuckled, kissing the top of my head as I snuggled into his bare chest. "Too true."

We lay there in silence, holding each other, as I listened to him breathe.

"Thank you for trusting me," he murmured into my hair after a moment.

I looked up at him and nodded my head. "Hey," I said, a playful smile on my lips. "You make it sound like a one time thing. I may not be done with you yet..."

He laughed, rolling us over so that he was positioned above me again. "I certainly hope not."

I stretched upward to kiss him, smoothing my hands down his broad back. My fingers glanced over a small bump just below his shoulder blade. I hadn't noticed it before.

I traced along his skin with the tips of my fingers as he kissed me lazily. "What's that, Eric?" I asked, curious, toying with the tiny bump.

He frowned for a second, before pulling back and sitting up. Something was wrong; the tranquillity of the moment had suddenly dissipated.

"Eric?" I asked, confused. I shivered slightly as the warmth of his body left mine.

"It's nothing," he said, dismissively, not looking at me as he reached for his shirt.

I pulled myself up onto my knees, shifting forward until I could wrap my arms around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you—"

"No, it's not your fault." He let out a heavy sigh, leaning into me, his eyes still anywhere but meeting mine. "You took me by surprise, that's all. It's just not something I usually talk about. I wasn't prepared for questions..."

I held him for a second and then, cautiously, I ran my fingers along the collar of his open shirt, letting him know what I was about to do. He tensed slightly but leaned forward allowing me to remove it. I shifted to the side slightly so that I was mostly behind him and gently swept my hands over the curve of his back.

I found it again, just under the plane of his shoulder blade. It was slightly raised, hard to see in the shade of the trees, but a scar nonetheless. Eric flinched as my hand smoothed over his skin; I found another, a few inches below, nearer his spine but the same, and then another at the base of his back. I felt my stomach turn slightly as I traced the patterns with my finger; each one square, inflicted by something man-made. I waited in silence, the rustle of the breeze in the trees the only sound between us.

"My father liked to use a belt." Eric's voice was distant, a controlled whisper. "He was very adept at it so he didn't often leave a scar, but that time he had had quite a lot to drink."

I closed my eyes as a tear escaped. I hugged him to me, wanting to comfort him, but he remained rigid in my embrace.

"By the time I was fourteen, I was nearly as tall as him. When I was fifteen, I fought back for the first time. I don't think I've ever seen him more proud... In his mind, he was teaching me to be a man."

I couldn't contain my gasp. Eric rarely spoke about his father and when he did, it was never complimentary. Still, I hadn't expected this. "But you were just a child?"

He shrugged, picking a blade of grass and chucking it, futilely, towards the tree. "Not to my father."

I held him closer and placed a kiss on his shoulder. I wanted to tell him I was sorry but I knew my pity was the last thing he would want. "Thank you for trusting me," I whispered, repeating his words, as he finally relaxed into me, pulling me into his lap. "I love you."

He nodded, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my lips. A breeze tip-toed across my bare skin, causing me to shiver.

Eric frowned. "We should probably go," he said with a sigh. "You're getting cold."

I nodded, realising I had no idea what time it was. "They'll be wondering where I am."

Eric helped us up. We smiled at each other, stealing glances as we quickly dressed. He rolled up the blanket as I fastened the straps of my sandals. When I was done, he took my hand in his, leading me back through the field. I climbed up into the van and he let himself into the passenger seat again.

As I turned on the engine, Eric groaned, sinking his head forward on the dashboard. "I don't want to go back."

I laughed at him articulating exactly what I was feeling. Usually he was much more stoical than I was, it felt good to hear him admit it. "Me either..."

"We should run away," Eric suggested with a grin. "We could set up camp in the trees. Then every day could be like this one."

I laughed. "I estimate that we'd have about forty minutes until they'd combed the entire island and found us." I leaned over and kissed his cheek with a smile. "But you know I am coming to visit Amelia again next week... I'll try to make sure it's sunny when I do..."

He smirked. "I like how you think, lover."

I felt myself glow inside, warm with feeling for him. "Can you blame me? Now I know what you're capable of?"

He laughed for a second, shaking his head. "Good point. But I can assure you the feeling is very mutual. This may have been my favourite afternoon ever, lover. Don't think I won't be requiring a repeat, regularly and often."

I snorted. "I think Bill might have something to say about that. It'll be a bit difficult for him to make deliveries if we keep stealing the van every afternoon."

His smile lessened for a moment. His eyes were darker suddenly as he leaned over towards me. "Tell me that you're mine."

I looked at him, confused. "Where did that come from?"

"Tell me," he repeated. The humour in his voice had gone, replaced with both possessiveness and vulnerability, an angry plea. I wasn't sure how his tone could convey all those emotions at once but somehow it did, and I felt his voice shiver through me. "I want to hear it."

I didn't know what was on his mind but as my eyes met his, I didn't hesitate. "I'm yours," I whispered. "And I always will be."

Eric sighed as he brushed his lips across my forehead. "And I'm yours," he murmured. "No matter what happens, we'll find a way."

**Eric – August 1941 **

The months after Sookie and I took our relationship to the next level were amongst the best in my life. I'd had a lot of sex in my past; I was in the army after all, and, in the beginning at least, Sophie-Anne had had quite the voracious appetite. But sex with Sookie really was different. For someone who had had no sexual experience before, she had taken to the physical aspect of our relationship with relish. We spent hours trying new things, working out what she liked and just how she liked it. I couldn't get enough of her. We couldn't get enough of each other.

If it had been up to me, I would have spent every waking moment in bed with her, but the reality was we still had to be extremely careful, perhaps even more so now. Something had changed between us and it wasn't just physical intimacy. I'd never told a single person about my father. My mother had known of course, she'd even got in the way once or twice trying to protect me, and I know Tray had suspected, but Sookie was the only person I had ever felt comfortable enough with to talk to about it. I'd known I loved her from fairly early on but it was more than that now; I trusted her, I wanted to plan forever with her, and it was becoming harder than ever to conceal that from the outside world.

With the chance of discovery in St Helier that much higher, Sookie found it hard to relax, no matter how well we managed to hide ourselves. Ignoring our previous rule, I'd tried to instigate an encounter or two in the house when Cope and Evie had been out. Sookie had been responsive at first but, as both of us found out, it was hard to totally let go when you had one ear open for the front door. In the end, we realised getting out of town was better all around. Sookie went to see Amelia once or twice a week and we would always meet afterwards. We felt safe in our secret place, sheltered by the trees, secure in the knowledge that no one would see us and, even if they did, they wouldn't know who we were. I found myself dreading the end of the summer, knowing things would suddenly become so much more difficult for us to be together.

Back at the farm Copley and Evie were still unmoved in their resentment of me. They visited Amelia most weekends and each Sunday they would return from St Mary with new resolve to ignore me. I knew it upset Sookie but I had learned to brush it off, trying my best to just keep out of their way. I had heard nothing from Tray but I knew from Andre that the casualties on the Russian front had been heavy on both sides. I tried to tell myself that no news was good news, but I had been in the army long enough to know it didn't always work like that.

Elsewhere, the resistance effort appeared to be stepping up on the island. In Britain, Churchill had launched his "V for Victory" campaign. I knew from living with the Broadways that most people on the island were still using their wireless sets to listen for information from the mainland, and the rag-tag resistance, whoever they were, seemed to have embraced Churchill's words with vigour. What had previously been the odd bout of graffiti, imploring the Nazis to get out of Jersey, had now developed into a widespread operation. V-signs cropped up overnight, painted on the sides of buildings, on monuments, even German vehicles. We would scrub one away and two more would spring up in its place. Andre was furious that we were unable to track down any of the perpetrators. What with the new offensive and the revelations about Tray and Amelia, it seemed the mood in St Helier had shifted in a matter of weeks. The locals still weren't foolish enough to embark on a full-scale revolt, but momentum was growing. Jersey wanted us gone.

0-0-0-0-0

Sookie and I were playing cards in the kitchen. Evie and Copley had gone to bed and we were making the most of the time alone. We'd played cards before, in our place, shedding a piece of clothing each time we lost a game. We couldn't do that now, not in the house, but from the glint in Sookie's eyes as she laid down her winning hand on the table, I could tell that she was using her imagination. Her teeth scraped across her lip as she eyed me hungrily and I could feel myself getting hard in response.

I leant forward across the table. "If you don't stop looking at me like that, I'm going to be forced to take you over the kitchen table. And we both know you can't keep quiet..."

She chuckled, before giving me a little wink. "Major Northman, I'm sure I don't know what you mean..."

I smirked, my voice low. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, lover."

She rolled her eyes, a haughty look on her face. "Your turn to deal Major Northman... And let's face it, you haven't got much left to lose. Maybe a sock..."

I laughed at that. "That's just because I wear less underwear than you do."

She smiled, her fingers grazing mine as she passed me the cards, the briefest of touches setting my skin ablaze. She was due to see Amelia tomorrow. Days and days of being unable to touch her made for some fairly intense foreplay. I sat back in my chair, watching her, wondering if I could persuade her to come outside with me to Copley's workshop.

The moment was interrupted by a sharp tapping noise. Sookie jumped a little in her seat and I sat back, glancing around me, trying to discern what was happening. I looked over to the kitchen window to see Sookie's friend, Barry, peering in, knocking at the glass.

Sookie regarded me for a second, and I knew she wondering, as I was, if we had been doing anything that her friend could have misinterpreted (or _interpreted_, depending upon how you looked at it).

I shook my head slightly, casually, for only her to see. "It's fine," I murmured, under my breath.

She nodded, slowly getting up from the table, taking a moment to collect herself before facing the window with a smile and motioning for her friend to meet her at the front door.

"Barry," I heard her say at the front door. The pitch of her voice was a little higher than usual, even though she was whispering. She sounded nervous. "What on earth are you doing here?"

I could hear the click of Barry's shoes on the slate floor as they walked towards the kitchen. "I need to talk to you," he muttered in a hushed tone. "I'm sorry it's so late but it's urgent."

Barry strode into the kitchen, with Sookie following behind. I felt myself frown. He looked a little odd: all dark colours, and a woollen hat even though it was the middle of summer.

Sookie looked a little confused as she looked between us. "Barry, I'm not sure this is the best time..." she began, hesitantly. She meant me. She knew something wasn't quite right and she didn't want him to say anything in front of me.

He looked at me, squarely, before turning around to face his friend. "No, that's the reason I came to you. I need his help too." He took a deep breath before continuing. "It's Pam... She's been arrested."

**A/N: Another cliffie – I am sorry! Well, sort of... **

**I hope you enjoyed the zest. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts...**

**Just a reminder that I'll be in the Fangreaders Chatroom to discuss Lifting the Veil on Thursdaty 31 March at 9pm GMT. Hope to catch up with you then...**


	8. Chapter 8 Retreat

**A/N: I'm not going to bother with trite excuses about why this chapter is so late. Instead, I'll just say sorry everyone and here it is. Hopefully, some of you still want to know what's going to happen...**

**I should probably warn you that this chapter is a little harrowing. **

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. I just give them an angsty wartime spin...**

_**"Women are like teabags; you never know how strong they are until they're put in hot water." - Eleanor Roosevelt**_

**Eric – August 1941**

"Arrested?" Sookie exclaimed, her face awash with horror. "What do you mean, arrested?"

Sookie's friend Barry pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. He looked ten years older than the last time I had seen him and, given that he'd just been beaten up by the Lebrecht twins that time, that said rather a lot.

"The Germans," he confessed, glancing at me. His voice was tight, like he was biting back emotion. "They picked her up about an hour ago."

"Oh my God," Sookie gasped, reaching for the chair by the fire and slumping into it. Barry and I followed her towards the hearth and he crouched down by her side. "How can this be? Why?" she asked, sinking her head into her palms in disbelief.

Barry looked back at me nervously, again, and then addressed Sookie in a low voice. "You said he was a good guy, Sookie. I really need to know if I can trust in that... Pam's life could depend on it, do you understand?"

Sookie glanced up at me and her eyes were filled with tears. I wanted to take her into my arms and comfort her, and I knew from her look that that was exactly what she wanted too.

"You have my word that anything you say to Sookie now will stay in this room," I said evenly, knowing instinctively that any revelation was not going to be a good one.

Sookie glanced at me and gave me sad half-smile before turning back to her friend. "You can trust him," she whispered.

Barry let out a sigh, which sounded both tired and relieved at the same time, and then he nodded firmly, as if reassuring himself. "Pam and I were, well, we were, um..." He sighed again, looking at me with a frown.

"Spit it out Barry," Sookie urged. "This isn't helping Pam."

Barry and I both looked at her, surprised by the firmness of her tone. The tears were gone, I noticed, wiped away. Suddenly she looked focussed, resolute.

Barry nodded. "Pam and I have been involved in the V campaign." Sookie groaned, shaking her head, but didn't interrupt him. "And well, we were painting a victory sign on the side of St. Mark's church when they caught her..."

I tried to keep my face impassive at his admission. I had never met this Pam, although Sookie spoke about her a fair amount, but it made sense that Barry would make up part of the resistance. He was a young male, slightly too young to enlist when war broke out, but now one of the only young men left on the island. He'd already had one hostile encounter with the occupying army. And he was Jewish to boot. He was a prime candidate really.

Barry's voice was barely above a whisper as he continued. "I was keeping watch, while she did the painting. We'd targeted a few other areas already tonight and it had been fine... I didn't see them. In the dark." His voice began to crack. "I just didn't see them."

Sookie grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, as I tried to swallow down the jealousy. I hated that he could touch her and I couldn't.

"How did you get away?" she asked softly.

At this point, Barry looked like he was going to vomit. It took me a second to decipher the emotion that twisted his features, but after a second I recognised it as shame. "Pam... She shouted at me to run. So I did. I was halfway out of town before I realised what she'd done..."

Sookie pulled Barry into her arms, hugging him awkwardly over the arm of the chair. She voiced what we both had guessed. "She gave herself up... to save you. She knew what would happen, if they caught you."

She glanced up at me, and the tears were streaming down her cheeks. Barry was shaking in her arms and I knew he was crying too.

"It's all my fault," he sobbed. "It's all my fault."

I watched them blankly for a second, my mind reeling. This was such a bad situation for everyone involved and, in truth, I wasn't sure how much I was going to be able to help. It wasn't as if Barry was claiming innocence. Andre had been so desperate to find the resistance perpetrators; they had been making us look like fools.

Sookie pulled back from Barry, standing up and smoothing down her hair in thought. She used the back of her hand to rub the tears from her cheeks and then she was back again, all business. I noticed that Sookie didn't seem altogether that surprised by the revelation and I wondered if she had suspected what her friends were up to, even if she'd not voiced her suspicions to me. For the first time in a while, it really brought home the fact that we were on opposite sides of this conflict. I was a German soldier born and bred. I had never thought anything would mean more to me than the Fatherland but in that moment I realised that that wasn't true any more. Something, or someone, was now more important to me, and I would do anything to avoid causing her pain.

"Okay, we need to think this through," she said, frowning with concentration. "Eric? On the assumption that Pam has either confessed or they have enough evidence to pin this all on her, what are they likely to do to her?"

I closed my eyes for a second. "Sookie..." I whispered, warning her that the answer wouldn't be a happy one.

Her voice was firm, cutting through my hesitation. "We need to know the truth Eric. Please?"

I sighed, opening my eyes and meeting her stare. It was uncompromising, belying a strength I hadn't known she had. I don't know why I was surprised given how she had handled the Amelia situation, and everything else that had happened to her in her short life, but it made me proud all the same.

I exhaled heavily. "Best case scenario: they'll send her to Aldernay, to one of the camps..."

Sookie gasped, and Barry sunk forward, his head in his hands.

"And the worst?" he rasped.

"She could be hung in the Square," I admitted with a sigh. "My Colonel has taken these attacks very badly. He may want to make an example of her... especially if she won't give up her accomplice."

"Oh my God, Eric," Sookie whispered, distraught. "We can't let that happen."

"That settles it," Barry confirmed. "I need to hand myself in."

"No," Sookie said firmly. "Pam did what she did for a reason. There's no point ruining her sacrifice now. Eric?"

"I agree."

Barry glanced at me questioningly.

"Let me see what I can find out first? And we'll go from there." Another thought struck me suddenly and I tried not to grimace. "What does your friend, Pam... um, what does she look like?"

"Why should that matter?" Barry asked naively.

Sookie's eyes met mine though; she was a beautiful woman and I knew she understood my concern immediately. If she'd ever met Andre, then she'd know to be scared.

"She's very pretty," Sookie whispered with a shiver. "Slim, long blonde hair, amazing figure."

Barry looked between us, confused.

"How old is she?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

"She's twenty-nine in September," Sookie replied with a frown.

"But she's not married?"

Barry shook his head. "Pam's never been that... interested... in marriage."

"In men in general," Sookie elaborated, catching my eye.

I nodded in understanding. This wasn't good. "I think I should go there tonight. I'll make up an excuse. I'll find out what's going on and see what I can do."

Sookie looked relieved. "Thank you Eric," she breathed.

Barry nodded. "Thank you," he whispered.

I frowned with concern. "Look, you've got to prepare yourselves for the worst. I really don't know how much sway I'll have and I'll have to be careful. If anyone suspects... I mean just by being here, listening to this, and not turning you_ both_ in, is treason. Do you see?"

Sookie nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry we've asked this of you."

I sighed. "I know."

0-0-0-0-0

I knocked on the door to Andre's office and heard a muffled invite to enter.

Andre was sat behind his desk, leaning back languidly in his chair. The room was dark except for the golden glow of a lamp illuminating him from behind. His cropped white hair seemed to gleam in the half-light but his features were shrouded in darkness.

"Ahh, Major," he enthused. "Come. Sit down. You've heard the news?" He gestured at me with a decanter of whisky. I noticed that he had a glass himself and the amber liquid looked warm and inviting, so I nodded my head in acceptance.

"Thank you sir," I replied taking my seat. "Yes. We have arrested a member of the resistance? I thought I should come in and see if you required my help."

Andre nodded, handing me a crystal tumbler. "News does travel fast," he said thoughtfully. "But you are correct. We have apprehended a young woman. She was certainly not alone but, as yet, she has refused to give up the identities of her accomplices, despite the fervour of Corporal Mott's questioning."

"Corporal Mott?" I asked, feeling a little queasy.

"Yes. He was the one who arrested her. It seemed only right to let him have a chance to question her too." Andre poured himself a top up. "Oh don't worry," he added with a wintry smile, sensing my unease. "He has been instructed that he is not allowed to interfere with her and that her face must not be touched. After all, we wouldn't want her to look beat up when we hang her..." He let out a weary sigh. "Mott's a pitbull, Major, but he does obey orders."

I nodded, schooling my features. After years of practice with my father, I had perfected the art of keeping my countenance, revealing nothing, but the truth was that Andre's remit left Mott a great deal to play with.

"So you have decided to hang her?" I asked, my voice low, impassive. I took a sip of whisky, rolling it around my tongue for a second before swallowing it down, enjoying the burn as it passed through my throat.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," he admitted after a moment. "If she gives up her little friends, maybe I won't kill her."

I swirled the whisky in my glass, watching, silently transfixed, as the light reflected off the crystal.

Andre tilted his head to one side, regarding me for a second. "You don't agree with hanging her." It wasn't a question.

I looked up, searching the shadows for Andre's eyes. "No, sir. I don't," I admitted.

"Your father would hang her. Make an example of her," he countered.

I nodded. "I know."

He smiled. "So what course of action would you advocate, Major?"

"I would question her and then I would let her go."

Andre leaned forward, his elbows on his desk. His face was a mask. I couldn't tell if he was angry, amused or intrigued. "And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"

I sighed. "As you say, Mott is a pitbull, but he's had her for what, two, three hours, and she's said nothing?"

Andre nodded circumspectly.

"So she is probably not going to talk."

"Everyone talks eventually..." Andre countered.

I nodded. "But when they do, is that information reliable?"

Andre gave me a little flourish of the hand as if that was besides the point, but I pushed on. "I'm not sure that hanging her is the answer either. She's a young woman, yes? Pretty?"

Andre nodded again, taking a mouthful of his drink.

"...Hanging a young woman, publicly, in the Square, is not going to deter the resistance. All it will show is that we really are the monsters they say we are. They'll have a martyr then, one that will look good on a pamphlet, and their numbers will probably triple."

"So we just let her go?" Andre asked, raising his eyebrow incredulously.

"No," I assured him. "We let her go and we watch her. She'll lead us to the rest of them eventually."

Andre sat silently for a moment before downing the contents of his glass in one swift movement. "You know, your father's right Eric. You really should be in Berlin. Your particular talents are wasted here, building fortifications and responding to angry letters..."

I kept silent, not knowing how to respond.

"I will think it over," he accepted, standing up. "But first I think I will have a little talk with our pretty resistance fighter myself. You're dismissed, Major."

I nodded, standing up and saluting him. I had done all I could. Now we just had to wait. I approached the door to let myself out. "Good night, sir."

**Sookie – August 1941**

At the sound of the telephone, I dropped my toast on the table and bolted into the hallway, ignoring Auntie Evie's raised eyebrow.

"Hello? Broadway Farm," I rasped into the receiver, panting slightly from my sudden burst of movement.

"Sookie, it's me," Eric replied at the other end of the line.

"Thank God, I'm going crazy here," I whispered urgently, feeling a little nauseous in anticipation. "What's going on?"

"She's being let go."

I felt the tension seep out of me as I sighed with relief into the phone.

"They're just doing the processing now," he explained.

"Oh my God. I can't believe it. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Eric sighed into the phone. "I don't know how much I did, to be honest. When I spoke to Andre, he seemed intent on setting an example."

"He didn't suspect?" I asked, suddenly concerned. Eric had risked so much for us. For me.

"No," Eric breathed. "No I don't think so... Listen I can't really talk. I have to go. She she should be ready to leave in about an hour, okay?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

"We'll talk later."

The telephone clicked as he hung up. I felt myself frown a little at the abruptness of it. I had never spoken on the telephone with Eric before; I guess his phone etiquette was a little brusque.

I padded back into the kitchen. Auntie Evie was watching me expectantly.

"Who was that?" she asked, nosily.

"Sam," I lied. It was amazingly how easy I was able to these days. "I need to go in, in about half an hour. Stock check. Can I take the van? I shouldn't be long."

My aunt regarded me for a second before nodding. "You can take that box to Isabel when you go."

I gave her a quick kiss of thanks before grabbing my toast, gripping it between my teeth, and scurrying upstairs to get ready.

0-0-0-0-0

I sat in the van, parked across the street from the town hall, watching the entrance and waiting.

Pam emerged about twenty minutes later. Normally pristine, her hair and clothes were a rumpled mess but she looked otherwise unharmed. I jumped out of the van, scurrying around to the passenger side and opening the door. Pam noticed me from the other side of the road and nodded impassively. I scanned her face for any sign they'd worked her over but she just looked tired, drained. Without a glance back, she walked proudly, haughtily even, over to the van. I felt my brow furrow as I noticed she was limping; it was only very slight but I could tell she was trying not to let it show.

"Barry told you," she said with a roll of her eyes as she approached.

"Yes," I replied softly. I wanted to hug her but something about her demeanour made me think twice. It was as if she was trying very hard to keep it together and one false move from me would break through the veneer. "Under the circumstances I thought it better that he didn't come."

She nodded and I motioned for her to get into the van. I ran around to the other side of the truck and opened the driver's side. Pam lowered herself into the seat with a sharp intake of breath. As she reached over to pull the door closed behind her, I noticed an ugly bruise on the side of her neck.

"Pam," I whispered, reaching out for her hand. "What did they do to you?"

Pam flinched as my fingertips made contact with her skin, pulling her hand away from me.

She shot me a bitter look. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. Just take me home," she muttered brusquely, before staring vacantly out of the window in silence.

I nodded, starting the van up, and pulling into the road. The streets were quiet today; it was almost as if people knew they should stay inside. Neither of us said a word in the few minutes it took to get to Pam's cottage. I bumped the van up on the curb in front of Pam's small, but immaculate, front garden and turned off the engine, turning to face her. Pam ignored my expectant look and, with a mumbled thank you, turned to let herself out.

I reached over for her, grabbing her shoulder gently, and felt her freeze, her hands still on the door.

"Please Pam," I pleaded. "Tell me what happened?"

She stayed there for an age, facing away from me, totally still but something about the way she was breathing told me that she was crying. Finally, when I was sure she wasn't going to make a run for it, I withdrew my hand from her shoulder and she slumped back into the seat. She glanced at me, her eyes red and swollen, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

I felt my throat catch, thickening with emotion. I had never seen Pam cry before. She was always so together, so stoical, I had often wondered if she was even capable.

"I thought they were going to kill me," she whispered. "They tried to get me to give them Barry's name but I refused. There was this brute of a fucking Gerry... but I wouldn't tell him, even when he started to hurt me..."

I let out a breath, a tear of my own escaping, careening towards my lap.

"And then, after what seemed like hours, the brute left and someone else came to ask questions, the Colonel I think. He was quieter, seemed kinder at first... He offered me a cigarette and apologised if I'd been mistreated. I thought for a second _maybe he'll let me go._"

Pam was quiet for a moment, looking down at her hands in her lap. I remembered Eric's concern last night; Barry hadn't understood but I had and that chill returned to me now. I could hear my heart thundering in my chest as I waited for her to continue.

She cleared her throat and I knew she was gathering herself together. "He just watched me, silently, as I smoked. I tried so hard not to let my hands shake, to keep composed under his gaze, but the longer he watched me, the surer I was that I wanted the brute back... He said that he knew I wouldn't give up the names of the resistance, so he had two choices: he could execute me or he could let me go... So he was going to give me the choice..."

I reached out for her hand, grasping it tightly in mine. "You can tell me," I encouraged.

Pam looked out of the window, towards her cottage. She was trembling now, her voice shaky and unsure. "He said he would hang me, in the Square, set an example to everyone else... but that there was an alternative. If I... oh God..." She closed her eyes. "If I _spread my legs_ for him, he said he'd let me go." Pam's body shook with fresh, deep sobs and she looked at me, her eyes filled with shame. "And I did it. I was scared; I didn't want to die. God help me, Sookie, I let him fuck me... again and again. He was so rough, he liked hurting me... Oh God, I let him."

Pam scrambled to open the door to the van and lurched forward, retching, as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the path. I slid across the seat, embracing her from behind, gently rubbing her back in soothing strokes. Her body shuddered against mine.

"It's okay," I whispered, my eyes cloudy with hot tears. "It's going to be okay."

Pam wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and sank back awkwardly, half into my arms. "You can't tell Barry," she implored, shaking her head, fresh tears welling up. "You can't tell anyone."

"Pam, you survived. End of story. You did nothing wrong," I said firmly, shaking head, tears falling now. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, but it's not your fault. The Gerries are the only ones to blame here."

Pam let out an empty laugh and I recoiled slightly at the shock of it. "You never cease to amaze me, Sookie. Always willing to see the best in everyone... But don't you see? I'm tainted now. Just as culpable as Amelia. In everyone's eyes, even Barry's, I'll be just as big a Gerrybag as she is." She scoffed, bitterly. "I have my faults but hypocrisy isn't usually one of them."

I gasped. "Pam, that's ridiculous. You had to... You had no choice."

She sighed. "You always have a choice, Sookie. Always... Promise me you won't tell them?"

I nodded, pulling her tightly into my embrace. "I promise."

0-0-0-0-0

After I had helped Pam to bed, I made my way to the Dog & Bottle. Barry was slumped over the bar and Sam was sat beside him, a near-empty bottle of scotch between them both. By the looks of the two of them, neither man had slept a wink last night. I gave them both a brief summary of events, but I kept my promise, keeping silent about the price Pam had had to pay for her freedom.

I knew that Sam would be short-staffed without Pam, so I volunteered to do her shift. He hadn't opened for lunch, but we knew the pub would be bustling this evening; the news about Pam would have spread like wildfire through St. Helier by now and everyone would want the latest gossip. Deep down though, I knew that I hadn't really offered to stay for Sam; part of me just didn't want to go home.

We closed the pub at eleven. I was exhausted and my feet were aching but we'd been busy enough that I'd managed to avoid thinking too much about the day's events and what they meant for Eric and me. I still had the van so, after helping Barry and Sam clear up, I drove wearily back to the farm. As I approached the house and noticed that all the lights were off, I let out a sigh of relief. I didn't want to see my aunt and uncle, and I had no idea what to say to Eric.

I let myself in and tiptoed up the wooden stairs, carefully avoiding the creaky parts of the steps I knew so well. After washing my face and brushing my teeth quickly, I crept into Amelia's room, ready to crawl between the cool cotton sheets, glad that the day was finally over.

I let out a gasp as I turned on the light: Eric was sat, upright and perfectly still, on the end of my bed, watching me expectantly as I entered.

"You scared me," I whispered, my hand splayed across my chest in shock. "Why were you sitting up here in the dark?"

"I was worried," he replied, low and even. "You've been gone all day. I didn't know where."

"Sam needed me to cover Pam's shift." I sighed, sinking onto the bed next to him. "Listen Eric, can we not do this now? I'm tired. It has been a really, really long day."

His eyes shot to mine, and his tone was tinged with bitterness. "After all that happened last night, you couldn't even take the time to let me know you were okay?"

"I know what you did for me, Eric," I whispered. "And I'm grateful, I really am..." I ran an irritated hand over my hair, I really didn't want to discuss this now. "But your fellow soldiers beat and practically raped my friend yesterday, and for what? Painting a sign? Fighting for a freedom that she has every right to?" I could feel my voice begin to crack, but I blinked back my tears. If Pam could be strong then so could I. "I'm trying very hard not to taint you with my hatred for those men, but it's hard... So I'm sorry I worried you but I just needed some time, okay?"

Eric got up. I didn't make eye contact but I could feel the resentment galvanising his stare. "Do you still need time?" he asked. His tone was cold, impassive. "Sookie?"

I could feel my whole body tremble as I looked up at him. "I think so."

His eyes were filled with hurt for a heartbeat, but then it was gone. His stare cool and calm; the Eric I remembered from the first day I met him.

Finally he nodded. "Goodnight Sookie."

I didn't respond as he slipped out of my room, just collapsed into my pillow, exhausted sobs racking through my body until I finally fell asleep.

**A/N: If you're still reading this and still enjoying it, please do let me know. Your reviews make my day.**


	9. Chapter 9 Absent without leave

**A/N: Thank you all for the lovely reviews and words of encouragement for the last chapter. It really means a lot. Apologies for the HUGE time it took to update and thanks so much to everyone who enquired after my well-being – real life, well real work actually, just took over for a while. I've just been too busy and/or braindead to write anything decent for a while. As way of apology, I've been working on this chapter and the next in conjunction, so Chapter 10 should be up fairly soon as well.**

**In case you need a quick recap: the last chapter had Sookie asking Eric for time, after she began to question their relationship following Andre's detention and abuse of Pam. **

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

"**Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." - Kahlil Gibran**

**Eric – September 1941**

Over the next couple of weeks, I resigned myself to giving Sookie the space she needed while I worked through some issues of my own.

Until this point in my life, I had always prided myself on having absolute control of my emotions; my duty to the army placed above all things. Even during the roller-coaster of my relationship with Sophie-Anne, it was she who had provided all the drama. I had remained steady in the face of her crazy temper tantrums and emotional outbursts; my affection for her had been comfortable, reserved, totally in control. Then Sookie had come into my life and I realised that all semblance of restraint was gone. My emotions, my entire world, suddenly centred around her.

And now I found myself in a situation where I had acted in collusion with criminals, betrayed my country and the Wehrmacht, all for a woman who, at the moment, wanted very little to do with me. The thought that, after all we had been through, Sookie could actually class me amongst the likes of Mott and Andre made me feel sick to my stomach. I was beginning to realise that although I had chosen to put her first, I couldn't be sure that she had chosen me in the same way.

As the days wore on and the distance between Sookie and I continued, it became clear that I hadn't considered how difficult things might become between us, what sacrifices we would each have to make to be together. Not really. Ever practical, my mind had focussed on us not getting caught. We had seen how high the stakes were with Tray and Amelia, and I had been determined that Sookie would never be made to suffer in that manner. In a way, while I would have been delighted for us to be together, safe and in the open, the clandestine nature of our relationship added to our fervour for each other. It intensified everything; every touch, every stolen kiss meant something more. I just hadn't realised that, even in secrecy, we could both be made to hurt in our own way.

I came down to breakfast one morning almost three weeks after Pam's arrest. Sookie was stood by the stove, chatting to Evie. Their conversation stilled as I entered the room and I felt my heart sink as I took in Sookie's guarded stance.

"Good morning, Major Northman," Sookie said politely, avoiding eye contact.

"Good morning, Sookie," I replied, unable to keep the disappointment from my voice. "Mrs. Broadway."

Evie nodded in acknowledgement. "There's scrambled eggs on the stove, Major." She gestured to a large copper pan, before picking up a flask and two cups and making her way towards the back door. "I'm going to take Bill and Cope out their tea."

Sookie shot a nervous look at her aunt as I made my way to the pan, spooning some eggs onto the plate that Evie had left there for me. I wasn't really hungry but I didn't want to leave the kitchen. Not yet. I heard the back door click as Evie let herself out, leaving Sookie and I alone for the first time in days.

"I should get to work," Sookie murmured behind me, immediately making to leave.

I spun around to face her. She was wearing a soft cream blouse with a full forest green skirt that grazed her hips beguilingly. Her hair was pinned back on one side, loose waves dancing across her shoulders; no make-up, save for a dash of rouge across her lips, but I could tell that she'd caught a little sun recently. She looked beautiful but sad, thinner too. I wondered briefly whether she had stopped eating and if I was to blame.

"Sookie?" I pleaded, reaching out towards her. "Please just wait a moment."

She glanced at me, just for a second. "I really do need to get going Eric," she whispered, looking away. "Arlene's off sick again. I need to cover for her."

I stalked towards her, grabbing her hand in mine, and felt a thrill go through me, just to be able to touch her again after so long. "Sookie, please don't go. We need to talk about this... I miss you."

She nodded, looking down at my hand on hers and then finally making eye contact. I flinched at her expression, filled with pain.

"I miss you too," she replied sadly. "But I just... I can't. Not yet."

I let her hand drop, feeling for a moment as if her skin had burned mine.

"Please try to understand, Eric," she asked imploringly.

I shook my head petulantly, not wanting to hear it any more. "I'm sorry, I just don't. I don't understand what has changed?"

She sighed wistfully, still looking away, looking at anything but me, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I know."

I hated to see her cry, cognisant that I was the reason she was so distressed, but my petty side also found it comforting somehow, knowing that she was hurting too. I felt like grabbing her roughly and kissing her with all I had, reminding her of what she was missing, but I knew that would only make things worse.

"I really do have to get to work," she repeated, her voice catching, glancing over at me one last time before she fled the room.

I walked over to the kitchen counter, picking up my plate. I let out a string of curses in my native tongue as I threw it frustratedly into the sink, no longer able to stomach breakfast.

0-0-0-0-0

I nodded at Corporal Schmidt as I approached the door to Andre's office, knocking sharply before entering.

Andre was standing, facing me, towards the back of the room. He surveyed me with a detached gaze as I saluted him, taking the seat opposite his desk when he gestured towards it.

"Drink?" he asked, walking over to his liquor cabinet and reaching for a bottle of brandy.

I glanced at the clock on the wall behind him; it was barely midday. I raised my eyebrow in question. "Am I going to need it?"

The Colonel flashed me a tight smile. "Perhaps," he admitted with a shrug.

I removed my hat, running a hand anxiously through my hair. "Then I had better take a glass."

Andre nodded, pouring two generous measures, before walking towards me and handing me a glass. "To the Fuhrer," he saluted.

I nodded, lifting my drink in quiet acquiescence, before taking a sip. The spirit was sweet on my tongue, burning by the time it reached the back of my throat. Andre watched me before taking his own glass and downing a gulp of the mahogany liquid.

"It's good, no?" Andre asked, with a grin. "Frau Bellefleur has a whole stash of it in her basement. Her late husband was quite the connoisseur apparently."

"It's very good, sir," I replied, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone. "But with all due respect, you didn't call me in here to discuss Caroline Bellefleur's brandy..."

Andre gave me a wry look and I wondered if I had gone too far. He exhaled slowly, pursing his lips as he sunk into his chair on the opposite side of his desk. "I'm re-posting you, Major... To Guernsey."

I could feel the brandy swirl in my stomach, nausea rocketing through me as his words penetrated. "Guernsey, sir?" I tried to keep my tone steady, but the words felt thick in my throat, scratching as they clawed their way out.

"I'm in regular contact with Colonel Beck, as you know. It seems the works on Guernsey haven't progressed as well as ours. He's under some pressure from Berlin to get the strategic defences in place. The Fuhrer himself deems them of particular importance. You have done such a good job down at the harbour that I offered your services at St Peter Port... Have you met the Colonel?"

I shook my head, my mind reeling at the news. Guernsey was only the next island along but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. "Not really. I may have spoken to him briefly... Um, before the invasion." My voice sounded distant, alien, but if Andre noticed, he didn't show it.

Andre smiled smugly. "He's rather dour I'm afraid, but well-connected, in a somewhat different way to your father. Related by marriage to Goering as I understand it. It will favour us both if you impress." He shuffled around amongst the files on his desk, producing a slightly rumpled piece of paper. "Here are your orders."

I reached out for the paper, willing my hand not to shake. "Thank you, sir."

"You will take Mott with you, I think." Andre's smiled widened and I realised that he was enjoying this, just a little.

I nodded in defeat, all the while staring at the paper. Just over twenty-four hours. I was to report to Beck by lunchtime tomorrow. I took a deep breath and looked at Andre who had been watching me, interestedly.

"It doesn't say how long the posting will be," I ventured carefully.

Andre shrugged. "Does it matter?" he asked, nonchalantly.

I shook my head, trying to clear my vision. "No, it's not important, I suppose... If that will be all, sir?"

"Of course," he replied, with a slight frown. He seemed disappointed, as if my reaction hadn't been the one he had expected. "I'm sure you will have preparations to make."

I nodded, getting to my feet. I felt dizzy as I stood up but managed to make my way to the door. It hurt to breathe. All I could think about was Sookie. What would I tell Sookie? Would she even care?

"Oh, Major?" I heard Andre call from behind me.

I turned to face him reluctantly. "Yes, sir?"

He took a sip of his drink before continuing. "I forgot to tell you, I made some enquiries after Captain Dauschen..."

I felt my heart quicken as the brandy and bile began to pool in my mouth. "Sir?"

Andre waited a moment to answer, the pause seeming to last a lifetime.

"Yes. He's alive, covering himself in glory apparently. I thought you might like to know."

I exhaled in relief, standing a little straighter on hearing the news. "Thank you, sir. That's good to know."

Andre's expression was serpentine as he responded, going in for the kill. "Yes I know you two were close. Of course, that report was more than two week's old. Who's to say if it is still accurate? There are hundreds of men dying on the Russian front every day after all... You would do well to remember that while you are on Guernsey, no?"

Andre met my gaze for a moment, all humour leaving his face as his words sank in. I felt my features harden as I replied, knowing now that this man had made an enemy of me.

"Yes, sir," I replied neutrally, holding his stare.

Finally, he nodded, looking away. "Dismissed Major. Send my regards to Colonel Beck."

**Sookie – September 1941**

I ran out of the kitchen after my encounter with Eric, grabbing the keys to the van. Climbing into the driver's seat, I checked my face in the rear-view mirror and glared back at myself with red-tinged eyes. I let out a weary sigh at the irony of my situation: I had never known such happiness since Eric Northman had come into my life, and yet somehow, I had never shed so many tears. These past few weeks, with so much distance between us, I felt like I had hardly stopped crying at all. The rational side of my brain felt so guilty for pushing him away like this. I knew it wasn't his fault – he wasn't like the rest and, despite everything, he'd probably saved Pam's life - but I just couldn't seem to get past my anger at him, at the whole damn situation. I was just so confused; the only person who could always make me feel better was the one person I no longer wanted to turn to.

Pam gave me a questioning look as I trudged into the pub.

"You look like shit," she declared bluntly, cocking her head to the side and wrinkling her nose with distaste as she surveyed my blotchy face.

She looked immaculate of course, in a pale blue silk dress that I could only imagine she'd had smuggled in from Paris. You certainly didn't find clothes like that in St. Helier. Not any more.

"Lovely to see you too, Pamela," I shot back disdainfully, using the full name I knew she hated. I looked around me. The bar was empty.

"Barry and Sam are in the basement, changing the barrels," she explained matter-of-factly, in answer to my unspoken question. "I've cleaned the bar and I'm in the middle of doing the ashtrays and the mats. You just need to put away the glasses from last night."

I nodded, not really in the mood for conversation, and quietly made to get on with it.

I'd managed to sort and stack the majority of the pint glasses before Pam came over. She perched gracefully on a stool by the bar, looking as unlike Jane Bodehouse, its usual lush of an occupant, as was humanly possible.

"So are you going to tell me what's up with you or am I going to have to beat it out of you?" she asked, smoothing out the pleats of her skirt disinterestedly.

I took a sharp intake of breath at her choice of words, so close to the bone after her ordeal only a few weeks ago.

Pam noticed my reaction and rolled her eyes at me. "It's a turn of phrase Sookie. For God's sake, lighten up."

I shook my head in confusion. "I don't know how you can be so... so glib... I mean, after what they did. I can barely think of anything else and it didn't even happen to me..."

Pam's eyes met mine, her expression suddenly icy, as she stood up leaning across the bar. "I hadn't realised I was being _glib._ I do apologise if I offended your delicate sensibilities." She shook her head disdainfully. "So you think that because I don't walk around here like a self-indulgent shadow of my former self, that what happened doesn't affect me? You think I don't cry myself to sleep most nights? Or see the Nazis in every shadow, terrified that they've changed their minds... that they're going to come and get me after all?"

"Pam I didn't mean—" I tried to backtrack.

Her tone was even, tightly controlled, as she interrupted me. "You have absolutely no idea how much it takes out of me to pull myself out of bed each day and pretend like nothing ever happened. But I do it anyway... because if I don't, then they win... _he_ wins... and I won't let them win."

I held my palm up, wanting to pacify her as I blinked back hot tears of shame. "God I'm so sorry Pam, I shouldn't have said that. I had no idea," I whispered, contritely. "Please just forget that I ever said anything so stupid. I seem to be getting it wrong rather a lot lately..."

Pam gave me a measured look and sat back down on her stool, brushing imaginary crumbs from her skirt. Silence hung around us like a cool mist until she spoke again. "So Barry told me that I have your Gerry to thank for my release... That they probably would have hanged me if he hadn't intervened."

I felt a flush of guilt as Pam caught my eye. "Yes," I replied uneasily. "I'm not sure what we would have done if Major Northman hadn't helped us..."

Pam didn't miss a beat. "He must hold you in very high regard then, to do something like that for me, a woman he doesn't even know, just because you asked him to..."

I froze, unable to speak, not wanting to meet her gaze. My heart was thundering in my chest and I had to clench my hands into fists at my side to stop them from shaking. Pam watched me for a moment, her expression calculating, shrewd. Finally, she shrugged.

"I suppose he must be one of the good ones then," she concluded with a sigh.

My eyes shot up to meet hers and she gave me a wintry smile. After all she had been through, could she still really think that?

"He is," I confirmed with a nod, colour flaming across my cheeks once again. "I promise you he is."

Suddenly, the sound of voices interrupted us as Sam and Barry came bounding in from the back of the pub. Pam hopped off the stool elegantly and glanced at the clock. "Ten minutes till we open. You better get a move on with those glasses."

I smiled nervously, feeling the adrenaline begin to seep from my body. "Thank you Pam."

She nodded pensively. "Don't mention it."

0-0-0-0-0

I got home from work just after ten to find Eric sitting in the doorway of Uncle Copely's shed. He was smoking a cigarette, the soft glow of a halogen lamp illuminating him from behind. He looked tired, drawn, and I realised this whole situation had been wearing on him as much as it had me. He looked up slowly, stubbing out the cigarette as I approached, and I knew that he had been waiting for me, wanting to talk. I looked around nervously, worried about us making another scene, one that someone might hear this time.

"Your aunt and uncle are in bed," he assured me, anticipating my first concern.

I smoothed my hands over my hair anxiously. I knew I had to speak to him but I needed some time to think about what I was going to say. "I should get to bed too, I've had a really long day at work. But maybe in the morning we could talk? I don't have to go in tomorrow."

Eric stood up, following me, ignoring my plea. "Sookie, I really need to speak to you _tonight_."

I sighed. "Eric, I—"

Eric grabbed my arm gently, his deep blue eyes pleading for me to understand. "Sookie, I'm leaving St. Helier..." I froze, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of me. "...I'm being posted to Guernsey, to oversea the works there."

"When?" I rasped.

Eric exhaled mournfully, his shoulders sinking in defeat. "Sookie, I'm leaving tomorrow."

We stood there in silence for a moment and I tried to breathe, to comprehend. Eric still had a hold of me and for a brief moment he may have been the only thing keeping me upright.

"How long will you be gone for?" I whispered finally.

Eric's expression was filled with anguish. "I don't know."

I felt like I was going to throw up. I could feel my legs beginning to tremble and took a step back, pulling out of Eric's grasp, trying to steady myself. "Are you... are you going to be coming back?"

Eric shook his head, slowly. "I don't know."

He reached out towards me, his hand dancing gently across my cheek. I leaned into his touch, quiet tears careening down my cheeks.

"Sookie, I'm so sorry. If there was any way—"

He leant in, gently running his lips across my forehead, and I felt as if my heart might shatter from the pain. I couldn't take this any more, I couldn't do this. I needed to get away from here, into the house, so I could break down in peace.

"Eric, you don't need to say anything. I mean you don't owe me anything. We knew the risks... After all we've been through, maybe it's for the best?" My tone sounded bitter, even to me.

I felt Eric stiffen, his hand dropping to his side. "For the best?" he snapped. For a second he looked as if I'd slapped him, his face registering shock at my words. "How can you even say that?"

I felt my throat thicken, acrid and dry. I was saying it all wrong. I wanted to take it back, to say that I loved him, that I didn't want him to go, but somehow the words wouldn't come.

"I should get some sleep," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have to get an early boat tomorrow."

He looked at me for one last time, the warm light dancing across his face. Even now, he was so very handsome, and he had once been mine.

"Goodbye Sookie," he whispered, before turning and silently walking towards the house.

0-0-0-0-0

I managed to make it up the stairs and into Amelia's bedroom before my legs gave way underneath me. I slumped against the closed door, heavy sobs shuddering through my body. I couldn't believe that Eric was going away, that I might not ever see him again. We had wasted so much time and it had all been my fault.

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, my mind dizzy with thoughts and regrets, but I realised that I couldn't let Eric go away without making things right with him. My guilt, my anger, all the reasons for distancing myself from him, they all seemed trivial now. Even if I was never going to see him again, he needed to know how much I loved him. I had to fix this.

With resolve, I pulled myself shakily to my feet. I took a minute to tidy my face and hair the best I could manage before tiptoeing across the landing towards my old bedroom. Then, with a deep breath, I pushed the door open, slinking through and shutting it quietly behind me. The room was dark but I could see Eric sat up in bed, the taught muscles of upper body bare and smooth in the halflight.

"Sookie?" he whispered, his voice heavy with surprise. "What are you—"

I approached the side of the bed, kneeling down beside him and taking his hand in mine. "Please Eric, I need you to hear this." He nodded cautiously, allowing me to continue. "The things I said downstairs, it all came out wrong... I just wanted you to know that I love you so much. These last few weeks have been hell for me, utter hell. I just felt so angry about what happened to Pam, and guilty too, but you didn't deserve any of it... God, I've just wasted so much time... Please tell me that it's not too late? That you still love me?"

Eric's smile was wide and instaneous as he pulled my hand towards him, ghosting kisses across my knuckles. "Of course I still love you," he whispered. "I love you Sookie. I always will."

I laughed as he ran my hand against his cheek, luxuriating in the feel of my skin against his. After a moment I pulled away and stood up. My eyes never leaving his face, I began to unbutton my blouse, letting it slip to the floor, before unzipping my skirt, slowly stepping out of it as it pooled at my feet. Even in the darkness, I felt Eric's hungry gaze burn into me as he watched me undress.

"Sookie," he said, hesitating. "Your aunt and uncle... If they hear us..."

I climbed onto the bed so that I was on my knees, facing him, lifting my camisole off over my head and discarding it casually.

"We'll have to be quiet then," I smiled, leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his lips. "Please? I need this and I think you do too."

Eric's eyes raked over my body, his gaze heated, and he nodded. He pulled me to straddle his lap and our lips found each other. We began to explore with hands and lips and teeth, carefully reaquainting ourselves with each other's body. Gently teasing and carressing.

Eric's fingers found the clasp of my bra, releasing it adroitly and discarding it across the room. He ran his thumbs roughly over my breasts, my nipples pebbling beneath his touch, sending waves of pleasure straight to my core. Moving one arm to wrap around my waist, holding me steady, he used his legs to push my knees wider, fixing me in place, and began stroking me with his fingers, first on the outside of my panties and then dipping inside. I gasped with pleasure, rocking against his hand, craving the stimulation as our kisses became more intense.

Wanting more, I reached down between us, clawing the sheets out of the way and taking Eric's hard arousal in my hand. He groaned into my mouth as I began to massage along his shaft. No longer gentle, our kisses were hungry, our touches urgent, as we searched for reassurance from one another. Moments later, unable to hold off any longer, he ripped at the side of my silk panties, pulling at the buttons. I shifted slightly on my knees, allowing him to pull them off me.

Our eyes met as he grasped my behind with both hands, pulling me closer towards him and then, lifting me effortlessly, impaled me on his length, filling me deliciously to the hilt. We both moaned at the feel of it, both intense and familiar at the same time, as I rocked against him, his fingers gripping my hips as we ground together. Our movements were frenzied, desperate, filled with a desire to mark each other as our own maybe for the last time.

Eric broke our kiss and my head lolled backwards in rapture, allowing him access to my neck and chest. Still moving inside me, he began to butterfly kisses over my collarbone and finally took my nipple between his lips, scraping it gently with his teeth. At the same time, he sought out my clit with his thumb, applying pressure in tight circles. The sensation overload sent me spiralling over the edge. Eric crashed his lips into mine, stifling my cries of pleasure, as he followed immediately after with a final thrust of his hips.

We clung to each other in the dark, unmoving for a moment, and tears began to fall down my cheeks.

"Sookie, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Eric asked, grabbing my face in his hands, his voice full of concern.

"No," I whimpered with a sad smile. "I'm happier than I've been in weeks and now I'm going to lose you."

Eric's eyes swept over me for a second and then he lay back on the bed, unsheathing himself, before pulling me into his chest. He held me gently as my tears continued to silently fall.

"I love you," he whispered.

I smiled through my tears. "I love you too. So damn much."

I felt his lips brush over my hairline. "Whatever happens, I'll come back for you... This war won't last forever and then we'll be together. I promise."

I tilted my face towards him, meeting his lips. "I'll wait for you," I assured him. "For as long as it takes..."

We lay there for a time, our bodies entwined, basking in the intimacy of our reunion. After a while, I could feel Eric's breathing start to even out. As my limbs began to feel heavy I finally succumbed to the pull of sleep, knowing that in the morning I would wake up alone.

**A/N: I'd love to hear what you think, so please review if you can.**

**And btw I've given up and changed the classification to romance/ANGST, because Sookie cries about a dozen times in this chapter... so really, who am I trying to kid?**


	10. Chapter 10 Blitzkrieg

**You guys are the best readers a girl could wish for – thanks so much for all your fabulous reviews. I really am thrilled and very flattered that you have embraced this story the way you have.**

**So I promised you another chapter...**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

**"All human sin seems so much worse in its consequences than in its intentions." - Reinhold Niebuhr**

**Eric – October 1941**

St Peter Port was a harbour town filled with steep cobbled streets and pretty chocolate box houses, in many ways very similar to St. Helier. It lacked the vibrancy of Jersey though. Most of Guernsey's children had been evacuated to the British mainland before the war and a large contingent of the town's residents had also fled in anticipation of the invasion, so there was an eerie, empty feel to the town that I hadn't been prepared for.

Corporal Mott and I had both been billeted upon Bud and Ruby Dearborn, a dour Scottish couple in their sixties; we each had a dank, shabby room in their rundown guesthouse which overlooked the harbour. Also staying with the Dearborns was Elsa Ludwig, a nurse in the German army. Elsa was a tiny pit-bull of a woman, with a pinched face and hair cut into a severe bob, who could outdrink a sailor and silence even Mott with a steely glare. She also had a razor-sharp sense of humour and my interactions with her were one of the few redeeming features of my new posting.

I didn't bother to hide my distaste for the fact that Mott and I had been posted together. He was generally respected by his superiors, including Andre, for being an excellent soldier but to me he was a rabid dog, seemingly good at following orders but in reality too dangerous to control. I had disliked him from the day I met him and that dislike had turned into something close to loathing after the incident with Sookie. Unfortunately men of his ilk seemed to be more and more common in the Wehrmacht these days and it didn't take him long to find a group of zealots in Beck's regiment with which to spend his time. That said, if it kept him away from me, then it could only be for the best.

Andre had been right about one thing, Colonel Beck was as humourless as they come. A consumate Party man, my mother would have described him disdainfully as a 'social climber' and she would have been entirely accurate in doing so. Once again my reputation, or that of my father at least, had preceded me and Colonel Beck never missed an opportunity to be utterly obsequious while, at the same time, squarely reminding me that he was my commanding officer. By day three, I'd learned to simply switch off every time he mentioned his connection to Hermann Goering.

It also became apparent very quickly why he needed my help. He seemed to surround himself with sycophants rather than capable officers, men who would listen attentively to his buffoonery without actually getting much accomplished. Still in one way it was a good thing: I was able to throw myself into the defence wall project, working exhausting hours each and every day, in a bid to take my mind off Sookie.

I just missed her so much. Even when she hadn't been speaking to me, it was a comfort knowing she was okay and nearby. But now, not knowing how long I would be here, or how long the damned war would last, I could feel my sense of hope begin to ebb a little more each day. The last night we were together, I had watched Sookie as she slept, trying to commit every curve and line of her face to memory. It was no substitute for the real thing but, for now, that memory of her was the only thing I had to keep me going.

0-0-0-0-0

I was sat alone at the table in the communal dining room, playing with the watery tongue and parsnip soup Ruby Dearborn had left for dinner. Elsa traipsed in, two bottles of beer in her hand, and flounced into the chair beside me. She was still in uniform, with pants instead of a skirt. From not very far away you could have been forgiven for assuming she was a young boy. She placed one of the beers in front of me, making a hilarious face of disgust as she eyed the contents of my bowl.

"Do you think she spat in it?" she joked. "It looks like she spat in it... Or worse."

I ladled some of the murky liquid into my spoon and let it dribble out, back into the bowl. "To be honest, I'm not sure it would taste any worse if she had spat in it. There's more on the stove in the kitchen but I wouldn't really recommend it."

I smiled to myself as I thought of Tray and what he would have had to say about the meal; he could handle the Russian front, but Ruby's cooking probably would have pushed him to mutiny by now.

"It doesn't matter really," she sighed. "I'm not sure I could eat anything after a day like today, anyhow."

I raised an eyebrow in her direction. "That bad?"

"Well I had to treat three soldiers for syphilis this morning… have you seen what syphilis can do to the male member?... And then someone for hemorrhoids this afternoon…" She used her bottle to shield her mouth dramatically, revealing more in an accentuated whisper. _"…Who may or may not be a certain commanding officer we all know and love."_

I let my spoon clang down into the bowl and picked up my beer. "Okay, that seals it. I'm officially finished eating."

She laughed. "Thought that would do it… Anyway beer has all the goodness and nutrients a soldier needs..."

I smirked, taking a sip. It was slightly warm but a damn sight better than the soup. "Is that your professional opinion, Nurse Ludwig?"

She smiled, taking a deep swig of her beer. "Of course."

"So, syphilis huh?" I asked with a grimace, taking out a cigarette and lighting it up.

She took the cigarette I offered her and leant into my burning match, before inhaling deeply and blowing out the smoke with a deep sigh. "It's amazing isn't it? All you soldiers are forbidden from fraternizing with the local girls and yet, as if by magic, we have a syphilis outbreak on our hands... I know it's not me that's been putting it about, so unless Octavia Fant has been making her way through the regiment, you've got to wonder…"

I laughed. Octavia Fant was Colonel Beck's secretary. She was a gentille, white-haired lady of at least sixty-five; I doubt she even knew what syphilis was.

I shrugged. "There's always Claudette."

Claudette worked in the infirmary with Ludwig. She was young and very pretty, if you were interested, which I definitely wasn't. Claudette, on the other hand, had made it very clear that she was interested. In men in general, in me in particular.

Elsa gave me a wry smile, little crinkles appearing at the sides of her eyes. "Claudette has access to all the good medication, so I don't think it's her. Anyway, I think you and I both know that Claudette has better taste than those reprobates I had to deal with today. Well, slightly better taste anyway…"

I frowned, taking another gulp of my beer. "I'm not interested Elsa. I've told you that already."

She raised her palms in surrender. "Hey, you brought her up… You never did say why you're not interested though. I mean you're a hot-blooded male and I know Claudette is my friend but anyone can see that she's got curves in all the right places. What's wrong with her?"

I shook my head, taking another pull on my cigarette. "Look, it's not about Claudette…"

Elsa tilted her head to the side, unable to hide her glee. "Major Northman have you got a sweetheart waiting for you at home?" she teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe I'm just madly in love with you Nurse Ludwig… Stanger things have happened."

Elsa snorted. "Not much stranger… But that's it isn't it? You've got a girl back in Berlin…" Her eyes suddenly went wide and she pointed at me with her cigarette. "… or not in Berlin... in St. Helier? Fuck Northman, you've got to be kidding me…"

I laughed dismissively, starting to shift in my chair a little uncomfortably. "You really are making this up as you go along Elsa. I just don't want to fuck Claudette. There really is no ulterior motive."

Ludwig gave me a knowing look, holding my gaze. Suddenly she broke eye contact, glancing behind me, a flash of worry crossing her features. I twisted around in my chair, feeling my stomach sink as Corporal Mott made his way into the room. His face was impassive, as I realized with horror that I had no idea how long he had been there.

"Evening Major… Elsa," Mott addressed us, breaking out into a smarmy grin.

"Mott," I replied curtly, extinguishing my cigarette and making to get up. My heart was hammering in my chest but the only thing I could do was try to play it natural.

"Got one of those for me?" Mott gestured to Elsa's beer.

She rolled her eyes, getting up from the table. "Nope."

"You're not sticking around?" Mott asked, looking between us with a faux pout. "I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation."

"We were done." I tried to sound bored, dismissive. Did he hear Ludwig talk about St. Helier? If he did, did he make anything of it? I couldn't be sure.

Without a further glance at Mott, I made my way to the door, Elsa hot on my heels.

I couldn't help but smile as I heard her parting comment. "Try the soup Corporal. I hear it's really good."

**Sookie – November 1941**

"Right, that's it," Auntie Evie declared, banging down her knife and fork with a dramatic huff. I looked up from my plate, where I had been picking distractedly at my carrots for the last twenty minutes. I shot a glance at Uncle Cope who had also stopped eating, mid-chew, and was raising an eyebrow at his wife in question.

Auntie Evie glared at me. "Fish pie is supposed to be your favourite. You haven't eaten anything properly in weeks and you're wasting away before my eyes… I think you need to go and see the doctor."

I shook my head. "There's nothing wrong with me, auntie, I promise. I'm just not that hungry." I looked down at my plate, feeling a little nauseous at the sight of all the cod and double cream, but shovelled a mouthful of carrots into my mouth in demonstration. "See?"

Bill looked at me with concern. "Maybe your aunt is right, Sookie. You don't seem to be yourself at the moment. Are you sure you're not unwell?"

I rolled my eyes petulantly and looked over at Uncle Cope, shooting him a look of challenge. "Did you want to get involved in this too?"

My uncle blew out a frustrated breath. "I think we're all just a bit worried about you, Sook. You've gotten really thin lately and, well, you just don't seem to be your usual bubbly self…"

I sighed. "I know you all care but I really am okay," I lied. I tried to think of something to pacify them. "Maybe just a bit tired?" I offered.

It was true, I was exhausted. I hadn't really had anything but fitful sleep since Eric left. I dreamt of him almost every night. My favourite part of the day was always the few seconds after I woke, the time it took me to remember that he was gone. I didn't want to eat; I didn't want to do much of anything. I knew my clothes were starting to look a little baggy, Pam had commented on it the other day in her usual brutally honest manner, but I thought I'd been doing a better job of keeping my heartache concealed. It worried me that I hadn't. The last thing I needed was my aunt and uncle putting two and two together. Or Bill. He'd already been suspicious in the past.

"That Sam's been taking advantage of you," Auntie Evie asserted with a firm nod, seemingly satisfied by my explanation and running with it. "He's working you too hard. You're run down."

"It's not Sam's fault," I defended. "I offered to help out." In reality, I had begged Sam for extra shifts in an effort to keep myself busy and out of the house. Arlene had even complained about him showing me favouritism.

Uncle Cope reached over and put his hand over mine. It was warm and comforting and for the first time in years I wished that I could crawl onto his lap and he would hug me like he'd done so many times when I was a child. I knew she cared now but Auntie Evie had taken a bit of getting used to when I first came to St. Helier. Uncle Cope though, he had made me feel loved right from the start.

"Maybe you should get away for a bit. Take a break?" he suggested softly. "I'm sure Maxine wouldn't mind having you stay for a week or so and I know Amelia would love to have you around."

I smiled; last time I had seen Amelia she was coming very close to murdering Maxine. She would be thrilled to have some company and Uncle Cope was right, it probably would do me some good to get away from the farm for a bit. Everything here reminded me of Eric.

"Maybe that would make me feel a little better?" I agreed.

0-0-0-0-0

Amelia had been overjoyed to see me and her enthusiasm and sense of fun were so infectious that it did perk me up just being around her. Maxine was also lovely in her own way, fussing around me kindly, under orders from Auntie Evie that I was to get plenty of rest. On the third day of my stay Bill had driven up in the van and dropped off my bicycle. Of course, Maxine had almost been unable to contain herself, inviting him to stay for lunch and fawning over him the whole time.

That afternoon, Amelia and I decided to take advantage of the dry weather and go out for a ride.

"I think Maxine may be in love," Amelia joked, looking back at me over her shoulder as we coasted down the hill. The air was cold and crisp against my face but the sun was high in the cloudless sky. A perfect winter's day.

She mimicked Maxine's voice. _"Such nice manners and such a handsome man…"_

I laughed. "She does seem quite taken with him… It was really thoughtful of him to bring my bike up though."

Amelia slowed down so I could catch her up. "He probably missed you and needed the excuse to come see you," she teased.

I rolled my eyes. "Amelia, that is ridiculous. I've only been gone three days."

"Three days is long enough when you're in lurrrve…" she giggled.

I reached over trying to swat her with my hand, attempting to stifle my own laughter as she swerved away from me. "You are such an idiot."

We pulled up at a junction and Amelia grinned at me. "I know."

After checking for cars, I pushed away. "Anyway, I thought you liked Bill these days?" I asked.

"You're right I do," she admitted, suddenly pensive. "I'll always be grateful for what he did for me that day…"

I nodded solemnly. "Me too."

Amelia held her hand out signalling left down one of the country lanes, even though there was nobody around to see. "Doesn't make him any less dull though, does it?" she added with a mercurial grin.

I chuckled at that, unable to argue against her logic. We rode on for a while in comfortable silence as I took in the scenery around me, until the trees and hedgerows began to look slightly familiar.

"Where are we?" I asked, as we made our way up a gentle hill.

"We're on the way back into town," Amelia explained. "We're less than a mile out."

As I glanced across the field to my right, I realised why I recognised the area. It was a lot less green, the trees had shed their leaves and the ground was muddy from all the rain we'd been having, but it was unmistakable: Our place. Mine and Eric's.

I felt myself wobble a little on the bike, my balance suddenly off as a wave of nausea unexpectedly rose in my stomach. Calling out croakily to Amelia, I stopped the bike, leaping off and discarding it by the side of the road. I managed to lean over into the hedgerow just in time before I vomited violently, my hands shaking and tears streaming down my face from the force of it.

"Holy fuck." Amelia jumped off her bike, discarding it next to mine. "Sook, are you alright?"

She gathered my hair behind my head in a makeshift ponytail as my body convulsed and I decorated the hedgerow for a second time.

"I don't know what came over me," I moaned, trying to steady my breathing. I crouched down on my haunches and glanced over at the trees. For a moment I thought I might be sick for a third time. "It must have been something I ate."

Amelia frowned, rubbing my back comfortingly. "But you only had porridge for breakfast and I had the stew last night too and I feel fine." She put her hand across my forehead. "You're a little sweaty though. Maybe you've got the flu?"

I nodded, holding out a shaky arm for Amelia to haul me to my feet. "Might be… Okay, I think that's all there is."

Amelia nodded, eyeing the trail of vomit with an exaggerated grimace. "We should get you home. We can cut across the field on foot and push the bikes alongside."

"Okay," I agreed, still feeling a little weak. I cast a final glance across the clearing, forcing back the fresh tears that were threatening, and then picked up my bike and followed my cousin across the field.

0-0-0-0-0

I spent the next couple of days at home with Maxine and Amelia. I still felt a little queasy and tired, so I slept late in the mornings, catching up on lost sleep, and took it easy during the day.

After three days at the mercy of Maxine's mothering, I declared myself all better, and Amelia and I decided to go for a walk down to the beach. The sea was foreboding today, dark and wild under a troubled grey sky. I watched the waves crash against the rocks and shivered, linking my arm into Amelia's and pulling my coat around me.

"I worry about you here," I admitted quietly after a moment. "I worry about you being alone."

Amelia shrugged. "It's not forever... And I have Maxine. I know a few people now too."

I sighed. "It's not the same."

She shook her head ruefully. "No, you're right, it's not."

We trudged along the beach in silence, slow as our boots sunk into the wet sand. I faced into the wind as it whipped my hair around my face, the taste of salt staining my lips.

After a while Amelia stopped, looking out pensively over the horizon. She ran a hand through her hair. She had decided to keep it short since leaving St. Helier. It suited her.

"Do you think he ever thinks about me?" she asked softly.

I smiled, hugging her closer into me, not needing to ask whom she meant. "I'm sure he thinks about you all the time."

She pulled away from me gently, reaching down to scoop a small stone off the sand and throwing it resentfully into the water. "Will he be okay, do you think?"

I sighed, shaking my head bleakly. "I don't know sweetie... I don't know if any of us will."

Amelia turned to face me, a devious smirk spreading across her face. "Bloody hell Sook, you're supposed to be cheering me up, not making it worse!"

I couldn't help but laugh. "I know, I'm sorry. I think I'm the wrong person to be doing the cheering up these days."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't think I haven't noticed. Maybe we should both just jump off one of those cliffs, the first corpse to wash up on Guernsey wins..."

"Guernsey?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah," Amelia nodded, giving me a knowing look as she pointed out over the sea. "It's too miserable today, but on clear day you can see it across the water. It's only twenty miles or so."

I squinted out onto the horizon, feeling a lurch of disappointment that I couldn't make the island out. It was silly but somehow it would have made me feel better, being able to see where Eric was. I wondered what he was doing out there. Was he happy? Did he think about me as much as I did him?

A clap of thunder rolled off in the distance, breaking me out of my thoughts. Amelia grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the sea.

"C'mon," she yelled, as fat drops of rain began to splatter around us. "Time to get home."

0-0-0-0-0

I stayed at Maxine's for twelve days in total before heading back to the farm. I still missed Eric terribly of course but the time away had allowed my heart to heal, just a little, and I was generally feeling better about things.

Bill came to see me the afternoon I got back. We were alone in the house; Uncle Cope was outside, cleaning out the chickens, and Evie had gone into town to visit Isabel.

"Well don't you look better?" he enthused, a large grin on his face.

I looked up from the book I was reading at the kitchen table, my smile mirroring his as I watched him wipe his boots on the kitchen mat.

"Hi Bill. Thank you, I feel a little better too. And I'm certainly well rested. Amelia and Evie really fussed over me while I was there."

He nodded. "Good. I was worried... We all were."

I tried to ignore the look of tenderness in his eyes as I folded the corner down on my page, closing my book. It was the novel Eric had bought me for my birthday. I had read it at least five times since he'd left.

"Fancy a cup of tea?" I asked cheerfully, making my way over to the kettle and filling it up.

Bill smiled, moving towards the kitchen counter. "You read my mind Sookie. I'd love one. Thank you."

The kettle put on to boil, I went to the fridge, pulling out the jug of cream to add some to our cups. I felt my stomach dip a little as various smells from the refrigerator wafted into the room.

I sniffed at the cream, crinkling my nose, and then proffered it to Bill. "Does this smell off to you?"

He frowned, taking the cream from my hand and examining it. "It shouldn't do. It was fresh yesterday."

I grimaced, poking my head into the fridge to investigate. "Must be something else then..."

Suddenly an enormous wave of nausea reared up inside my stomach. I retched, my hand over my mouth, knowing I was going to be sick. Lurching towards the sink, I made it just in time to empty my lunch into it.

Bill rushed over to my side. "God Sookie, are you all right?"

Flushing red with embarrassment, I reached for a dishcloth to wipe the side of my mouth. I ran the tap on full blast, trying desperately to clear the sink. "Yes," I croaked. "Oh Bill, I'm so sorry about that."

Bill reached out to touch my arm, looking at me through troubled eyes. "Don't be silly Sookie. Are you okay? What can I do?"

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling carefully. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I think I need to sit down though..."

"Of course." Bill led me by the arm over to the table, pulling out one of the chairs.

I sank into it with a sigh. "Thank you."

"Did you want me to call Evie for you?" Bill enquired with concern. "Or maybe you should see the doctor?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm okay, really. I've just been a bit under the weather lately. I think it's the flu or something."

Bill frowned, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. "The flu?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I felt a bit sick while I was at Maxine's. I thought it had gone but clearly not." I looked over at the kettle as it began to whistle on the stove. "I should finish that tea."

Bill shook his head, resting his hand on my shoulder. "You stay there Sookie. I can do it."

I gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks Bill. I think I'd better take mine black if that's okay?"

He nodded, busying himself at the kitchen counter. I ran my fingers over the grain of the wooden kitchen table, breathing slowly, trying to settle my stomach. Maybe I was sick after all? Last time, I had just assumed it was because of Eric, the shock at seeing our place again without him here.

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" Bill asked, bringing my tea over to the table. I blew into my cup before taking a sip, feeling instantly calmed as its warmth spread to my belly.

I thought about it for a moment. I knew I didn't want to eat anything. I wondered if maybe something fizzy would take the edge off the nausea. I knew Arlene had drunk her weight in Coca-cola when she was pregnant and swore by it.

My cup shattered as it hit the floor, spilling scalding hot tea all over my front. But I didn't feel it.

_When Arlene was pregnant..._

I sat there, paralysed, not hearing Bill as he fussed around me trying to pick up the fragments of Evie's wedding china from the floor.

_Pregnant. _

Desperately, I tried to think back to the last time I had my period but I honestly couldn't remember. I'd been so pre-occupied lately, I hadn't thought about it. Before Eric left, I was almost certain of that. Terror rose in my belly as understanding began to creep over me like a thousand tiny insects marching across my skin.

_Pregnant._

I wanted to cry out, to curse out loud but the words wouldn't come. I stood up, feeling my legs begin to shake as my body began to rebel against me.

"Oh God," I rasped.

"Sookie?" Bill asked, his expression full of alarm. "Are you okay? Did it burn you?"

"I have to go upstairs and change," I whispered, backing away from him. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

I bolted up the stairs and into my room, shucking off my wet clothes as if they were contaminated. I pulled my dressing gown around me, hugging it to me like a life jacket. My legs were red where the hot tea had penetrated my slacks but I ignored it. I slumped down on the bed, tears of dread and disgrace cascading down my face.

I clutched my stomach as waves of sickness began to ripple through me yet again. I couldn't believe that I was pregnant with Eric's child. Not now. In my daydreams I had imagined us together in the future, happy and married, a whole brood of beautiful blonde children playing at our feet. But the reality couldn't be any different: unmarried and pregnant by a Gerry soldier I would probably never see again. I would be ostracised, shunned, and it would break my aunt and uncle. After Amelia, I wasn't sure that they would recover from the shame.

I had been there for a while when I heard a gentle knock at the door. I ignored it, pulling my pillow into my lap, clinging to it and wishing for the world to go away. There was a second knock, louder this time, and then Bill opened the door.

His eyes met mine as he entered my room. They were full of anguish as he took in the sight of me.

"It's not the flu, is it?" His voice was so quiet, it was barely audible.

My eyes were blurry with tears as I shook my head. There seemed no point in lying to him. It would be obvious to all soon enough.

"You're pregnant," he asserted.

I nodded.

"It's Major Northman's?"

I nodded again, looking down at my hands with shame.

Bill turned away from me, cursing under his breath.

"I'm so scared," I whispered. I wished for all the world that Eric was here. Just to have him hold me, to lie and tell me everything was going to be okay, it was all I wanted.

Bill ran an anxious hand over his face, walking over to me and perching on the side of the bed. He put his arm around me, pulling me awkwardly into his embrace but he felt warm, comforting, as I shook with tears against his shoulder. He rubbed my back with the palm of his hand, soothing me like a child.

After a moment he pulled back. "It'll be okay Sookie. I'll get you through this."

"I don't know what to do," I sobbed, shaking my head with despair. "A baby? What am I going to tell my aunt and uncle? Oh God."

Bill shook his head firmly. "It's okay, Sookie. I know what we need to do."

I looked at him questioningly.

"Just hear me out Sookie, okay?" He held his hand up, placating me.

I nodded, wiping the tears from my eyes with the corner of my sleeve, desperate for any glimmer of hope he could give me.

Bill slipped off the bed, until he was kneeling on the floor beside me. It took me a minute to register what was happening as he took my hand in his. Bill's dark eyes fixed on mine, full of emotion.

"Marry me Sookie."

**A/N: *peeps out from behind laptop* Ummm yeah – I went there! **

**Reviews make my day, so please let me know what you think. ****Kudos to Wylis for predicting the bun in Sookie's oven. I** should **emphasise**** that this is an Eric and Sookie story, so please do bear that in mind before you all start forming a posse to come lynch me!**

**I should take this opportunity to do a shout-out to TexanLady23 and all those at the Fangalicious Fan Fiction website where I'm "Author of the Month" this month. It's a great website with loads of fab fanfic recommendations so check it out at: fangfics(dot)blogspot(dot)com**


	11. Chapter 11 Strategy

**As always, thank you so much for your amazing, insightful reviews. I think it's safe to say that opinions were divided after the last chapter! Some of you think Bill is being honourable, some think he is a self-serving douchebag. A number of you think Sookie has no choice but to marry him, rather a lot of you think she should do anything but... **

**In a break from tradition, this chapter is all from Sookie's POV. **

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

"**I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair." - Alfred Lord Tennyson **

**Sookie – November/December 1941**

"Marry you?" I asked incredulously. "Bill, I... You can't mean it?"

Bill's fingers tightened around my hand. "Just listen Sookie. Please?"

I studied his tense expression, full of determination, and gave him a wary nod.

Bill's eyes flashed with satisfaction as he released my hand and got to his feet, pacing back and forth in front of me. "It's the perfect solution, don't you see? We get married quickly, before you begin to show. Everybody thinks the baby is mine, your husband's. Maybe it's a little premature, who can say? But nobody ever knows the truth except you and me."

I felt my heart sink; the plan was as brutal in its simplicity as in its deceit. I looked up at Bill, meeting his eye, trying to keep my voice steady. "Bill, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you would even consider doing such a thing for me... I really am. But I can't drag you into this. It's not fair."

Bill shook his head defiantly. "You're not dragging me into this, Sookie. It's my idea."

I glanced away. "Bill, you know I can't marry you," I tried to rationalise, as gently as I could.

"Why not? You have to see that it's the only way?" he appealed, his voice tight with frustration.

I sighed, knowing that my next words would hurt him, wishing for all the world that I didn't have to say it. "I... I don't love you, Bill," I whispered. "I'm sorry but I just don't feel that way about you."

The inference that I did love Eric hung in the air, unspoken.

I felt the bed dip beside me as Bill sat down. "Sookie, please look at me," he said softly.

Reluctantly, I turned to face him before he continued.

"Look I'm not fooling myself here... You know that I've had feelings for you for a number of years and, in turn, I've always known, hard as it is to accept it, that those feelings were not reciprocated..."

I felt a guilty tear slip down my cheek and wiped it away with the back of my hand. "Bill, I never wanted to hurt—"

He held up his hand to interrupt me and I let him speak. "What I want to say is that if you just give me a chance, I know in my heart that you could grow to love me... We could make this work. I will spend the rest of my life earning your love and until that day, I can love you enough for the both of us."

I sighed sadly, taking his hand in mine. "I'm pregnant with another man's child, Bill. You really think you can love me like that? That you can love that child as if it were your own?"

He nodded. "I do. I will make you happy, I swear... Both of you."

My head was pounding by this point, my mind swimming with confusion. It was just so much all at once.

"All I'm asking is for you to consider my proposal," Bill urged. "When I think about what they did to Amelia that day... The thought of anything like that happening to you... I just don't think I could bear it. And Evie and Cope, they mean almost as much to me as they do to you..." His voice trailed off. He didn't need to explain any more.

Bill placed his hands on my shoulders, gripping me firmly. "Please just tell me that you will think it over?"

I sighed in defeat, exhaustion beginning to sweep over me. "I will. I will think about it."

Bill's body relaxed a little, his hands dropping down, seemingly satisfied. "That's all I ask." He stood up, making his way to the door. "I should leave you alone. Give you time to think this through."

"Thank you Bill. And I will think it over. Seriously. I promise."

Bill gave me a sad smile. "That's all I ask. Take all the time you need."

0-0-0-0-0

After Bill left I had tried to sleep, feeling tired to my bones, but my mind wouldn't shut down for a second as the facts of my situation began to play on a loop inside my head, seemingly unwilling to stop. In the end, I pulled on some clothes, sneaking past Evie and Cope in the kitchen, and headed out into the dark, needing the fresh air to clear my head. The rain began to come down as I approached town, but I ignored it, revelling in the feeling of the cool raindrops as they lashed against my cheeks, mingling with my tears. I couldn't be sure how long I'd been walking around but after a while I found myself stood, sopping wet, on Pam's doorstep.

Pam's expression was a picture of astonishment as she opened the door but she soon recovered, leaning against the entrance to her cottage, hand on hip, surveying my drowned appearance with an amused smile. "Sookie, I really love what you're doing with your hair this season. It's just so avant garde..."

I looked at her through tear-filled eyes, hugging my arms around myself. "I-I don't really know why I'm here." I shivered, the chill of the winter night intensified by my damp clothes. "But I need to talk to you. I really need your help."

Her face was instantly serious, full of concern, as she took in my forlorn expression. "Of course. Come on in, get out of the rain or you'll catch your death."

I stepped into Pam's hallway, careful to remove my shoes on the mat and followed Pam into her sitting room. Pam's parquet floor, which had been polished to within an inch of its life, was now festooned with tiny pools of water evidencing my trail as I padded after her into the sitting room.

"Sorry," I muttered contritely.

"Don't worry about it." Pam waved her hand dismissively before disappearing from the room. Not knowing whether to follow or not, I stood there, looking around nervously, trying to will myself not to drip.

I had always loved Pam's cottage. It was very modest in size but glamorous and feminine, totally unlike anything I'd seen in St. Helier. Even the interior of the Bellefleurs' mansion seemed a little shabby in comparison.

The sitting room itself was decorated all in hues of green with a large oriental silk rug in the middle of the floor and beautiful Chinese bowls and pots decorating the mantelpiece. Her furniture was all a combination of rich glossy woods and luxurious fabrics and she had a mint velvet chaise longue to the side of the room that I knew she'd had imported from London before the war. I smiled briefly at the recollection of Amelia the last time we were here together, reclining on it, smoking and calling everyone "dahlink" in a Greta Garbo accent.

Pam returned moments later with a large towel and a pale gold silk robe. "Here," she said, proffering both at me. "I've put some water on to boil for a bath but it takes a while."

I took some time to squeeze the water out of my hair before using the towel in an attempt to dry myself. I slipped out of my coat and woollen dress, placing both in Pam's outstretched hand, and slipped on the robe. The rain had soaked through to my underwear and the robe stuck to me damply, absorbing the water. Pam moved the fire guard a few paces away from the hearth and draped my clothes over it, leaving them to dry.

"I still have some coffee," Pam offered. "Would you like a cup?"

I nodded gratefully. Pam gestured to her couch and I sunk down into the large silky cushions as she slipped off to the kitchen. My fingers started to tingle as the warmth of the fire began to penetrate and I tried rubbing my hands over my arms and shoulders in a bid to thaw out.

The smell of coffee wafted into the room minutes later as Pam emerged with two china mugs decorated in an intricate pink floral pattern. She handed me one and I tried to regulate my breathing, hoping against hope that the smell of coffee wouldn't make me nauseous. I hadn't had coffee for months and I didn't want to waste it.

Pam took a sip of hers. "I put a shot of brandy in both of them. It'll warm you up from the inside."

I gave her a grateful smile and took a mouthful, the hot liquid instantly going to work.

Pam watched me calmly for a moment before breaking the silence. "So..."

"So," I repeated, stalling for time, still not sure if this was a good idea or not.

Pam smirked. "So... are you going to stop procrastinating and tell me why you're here?"

I blew out frustratedly, looking around me, possibly for a way to escape, I wasn't sure. "It's just not that easy to say..."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh Sookie, for God's sake, you didn't come here in the middle—"

"Pam I'm pregnant," I stammered, interrupting. "I'm pregnant."

Pam eyes went wide with shock and as she recovered, I could almost see her mind working through the scenarios. My heart was hammering in my chest as I waited for her to say something, anything at all.

"The child belongs to the Gerry Major, doesn't it?" she asked quietly after a minute.

I nodded, my cheeks flaming with guilt. "You knew?"

"I think _suspected_ is a better word." Pam looked at me appraisingly, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "But then you knew that or you wouldn't be here now."

I took another sip of my coffee and then nodded in acceptance. "I suppose I did."

"So what does he say, your Gerry boyfriend? Told you he wants nothing to do with you, I assume?" Pam didn't try to keep the judgement from her voice.

"No," I whispered. "Eric doesn't know anything about the baby. He was transferred to Guernsey last month. I...I haven't heard from him since."

Pam rolled her eyes, as if that confirmed everything.

I shook my head in denial. "It's not like that Pam. Eric loves me and I love him."

Pam's expression was one of pure scepticism and I realised then how this must look from the outside. Even to me it sounded naïve, as if I were fooling myself.

"You said yourself that he must have held me in high regard to help you out when I asked," I pushed, trying to make her see.

Pam snorted derisively. "He did hold you in high regard, Sookie. Because he was _fucking_ you."

I flinched at her tone, but part of me knew that I deserved every bit of her scorn. "It wasn't like that Pam, I promise," I pleaded. "He didn't use me. Eric loves me, I know he does."

Pam shrugged matter-of-factly. "I suppose it doesn't really matter. You're still knocked up whatever way you look at it."

I shook my head. "It matters to me, Pam. I'm not some Gerrybag, I just fell in love with the right person at the wrong time. It's important to me that you understand that."

She sighed dramatically, waving her hand in dismissal. "Fine. Fine. You love him, he loves you..."

Pam was silent for a moment, reaching over for the little silver case that held her cigarettes and lighting one up. She snapped the case shut, causing me to jump. "This will kill your aunt and uncle, you know that."

I nodded as my stomach knotted with guilt. "I know... After Amelia, I just don't know what they will do. And Jason? How will I ever be able to look him in the face?" I looked down at my hands, full of sadness. "If he ever comes home, of course... Barry? Sam? I'm going to lose them all."

She nodded. "Yes. Not to mention that Arlene and her cronies are going to have a fucking field day. Christ almighty. An unwed mother with a Gerry baby." Her eyebrows knitted together in a tense frown. "You'd be forced to leave St. Helier."

I put my cup on Pam's side table, pulling my feet up under my lap and hugging my arms around my waist. It helped some with the nausea. At this point I wasn't sure if the constant desire to vomit had anything to do with the baby; it could just as easily have been fear.

"Bill asked me to marry him," I revealed with a sigh.

Pam shook her head in disbelief. "Well, you're certainly full of surprises this evening, Sookie... He knows I take it?"

I nodded. "I've been suffering from morning sickness. He worked it out, but I didn't bother to deny it."

Pam laughed cruelly. "And so he offered to marry you, swooping in like a white knight when you are at your most vulnerable."

I frowned. "It wasn't like that, Pam. He was trying to help me."

Pam shrugged. "Maybe." She tilted her head back, blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. "Well, whatever his motives, Bill may be the one to get you out of this God-awful mess."

I frowned incredulously. "You can't mean it?"

Pam gave me a solemn look. "Really Sookie, what are your other options exactly?"

"I-I just need to get in touch with Eric but I don't know how. Do you... do you have anyone who could get a message to Guernsey?"

Pam snorted derisively. "And then what? In reality Sookie, even if I, a Jersey civilian, could get a message to him, a Nazi officer on another island, what in reality can he do? He can't marry you. He can't whisk you away somewhere safe until the war is over, just like at the end of one of your romance novels... No, even if he was here, you'd still have all the same problems as you had before but with a dose of added suspicion."

I sighed, sinking my head into my hands. "I hear what you're saying Pam. I just wish he was here, that's all. I know he couldn't do much but—"

Pam interrupted me, rolling her eyes. "Sookie, you really don't have the luxury of being sentimental about this. The fact is you may never see him again. You need to have a plan for _you_."

"So what do you suggest I do Pam?" I asked bitterly.

She looked at me, unimpressed; her tone was no-nonsense, scathing. "Well you could lose that attitude for one. You came to me for advice, Sookie. I'm not going to flatter you and pretend that this all going to end happily ever after. You fucked a Gerry soldier and now you're pregnant, that is not the stuff of fairy tales. This isn't going to just right itself."

I shivered at her words, blinking back the tears. I nodded silently, knowing she was right.

She continued, her tone softening. "The way I see it, you've got two choices. You can either marry Bill or you can take care of it?"

"Take care of it?" I asked in disbelief.

"There's a woman on the other side of the island. After what happened to me... Well I thought I might have to go see her, so I made discreet enquiries. Let's just say that Arlene and Debbie both knew more about her whereabouts than they ought... She's not cheap, but I have some money if you need it."

I shook my head firmly, my brow wrinkled in refusal. In all of today's trauma, it hadn't even crossed my mind that I would try to get rid of the baby. "No Pam, I couldn't do that. I would never—"

Pam looked at me, her eyes narrowing, but I shook my head, not wanting her to take me the wrong way.

"I'm not judging you Pam. I understand why you thought you might need to do that and I have no idea what I would do in that situation. Probably the same thing, who knows? But these are totally different circumstances. I told you, I wish I weren't pregnant _now_ but this baby was conceived in love... and I would never do anything to harm it."

Pam dropped her hands defeatedly onto the arms of her chair. "Then you're back to Bill."

I shook my head, fresh tears streaming down my cheeks. "I don't know if I can, Pam. I just don't feel that way about him... And Eric. I love him so much... I promised I would wait for him."

Pam took a final deep pull on her cigarette before stubbing it out. She blew the smoke out with a semi-whistle. "I don't know what to tell you Sookie. There is every chance that your Gerry will never come back. Even if he does love you now, he could be killed, or he could simply forget about you over time and go back to Germany and marry someone else. I mean it could be ten bloody years until this war is over... Ten years is a long time to live, alone, no friends, no family, _no job._" She shook her head frustratedly. "And where are you and this baby planning to live? I think even Maxine might baulk at taking in a Nazi child, don't you? How will you feed it, for Christ sake?"

"I don't know," I whispered, quiet tears streaming down my cheeks. "God, I don't know."

Pam reached over and took my hand in hers. It was soft and warm but I didn't feel its comfort.

"Life with Bill wouldn't be so bad, you know..." she said gently. "He's dull but he's kind. You'd have a roof over your head, everyone still around you. And he loves you, we all know that. I mean, he's such a bloody gentleman, you probably wouldn't have to sleep with him at all while you're pregnant. That'd give you some time to get used to the idea..."

I shuddered at the suggestion. If Bill were my husband, I'd have to... I hadn't even thought ahead that far.

Pam gave my hand a gentle squeeze, looking at me through sad eyes. "We do what we have to do, to survive."

I nodded, clamping my eyes shut to stem the tears.

Pam sank back in her chair, smoothing her hands over her hair. She exhaled in frustration. "God if we could even just get you to England, this wouldn't be quite the mess it is. You'd be off this damn island at least. You could say you were a widow or something..."

I gasped, sitting up straight as a bolt of realisation shot through me. I squealed in delight. "Pam, that's it! You're a genius."

Pam looked at me warily. "I am?"

"It's perfect. I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier. Okay, so what is the one thing that makes me different from you, from Amelia, from Bill...?"

Pam raised her eyebrow sceptically. "You're knocked up?"

I shook my head in amusement. "No. Well yes, but also, I'm American. I've lived here for years but I'm actually still an American citizen..."

Pam's smile grew wide with understanding. "And the Yanks aren't in the war."

I grinned. "No they are not. Before the invasion, Uncle Cope asked me if I wanted to go back, that it might be safer there but I refused to leave St. Helier. This is... was... my home. But there must be a way to get there now. I mean I've got a house in Louisiana, so that's somewhere to live. And you're right, I just need to pretend that my husband was killed in the war or something. I'd have to leave you all behind but I could start a new life for myself and the baby. And then when the war's over..."

Pam nodded, getting excited with me. "You know it could actually work..."

I sighed. "But first I need to actually get to Louisiana. There must be systems in place though, right? Repatriation and all that?"

Pam's smile tightened into a tense line. "I think I know how you go about doing that."

"You do?" I felt relief wash through me.

She nodded grimly. "You need to go and see him... the Colonel. The Nazi Colonel."

0-0-0-0-0

I followed the directions of the young German private and knocked on the large oak door to what I assumed had previously been the Mayor's office. Hearing a voice invite me to enter, I opened the door tentatively and walked slowly in.

I recognised Colonel Andre Paulinz from Pam's description of him. He was sitting behind a large wooden desk and there were papers strewn all over it. A large crystal decanter sat to one side, next to a half empty crystal tumbler containing something that looked like whiskey. The Colonel continued to study some plans, ignoring me as I stood there awkwardly, but I knew he was making me wait on purpose.

Finally he looked up. On Pam's advice I had taken great pains to dress in my most conservative outfit, including the jacket and hat I wore for church, but his cold eyes instantly raked over me as I tried not to shiver in revulsion.

The Colonel leaned back in his chair. "Miss Stackhouse, I presume?"

I nodded, politely. "Yes, sir."

He ran a hand through his closely cropped platinum hair before gesturing to the seat in front of him. "Sit down. Please."

I did as he asked, crossing my legs reflexively. I gripped the arms of the chair with my hands, trying to stop myself from shaking.

I waited for him to speak as he examined a piece of paper in front of him. He took a cigarette case out from his drawer, opening it and offering me one. I gave him a wave of my hand, refusing, trying to push thoughts of Pam from my mind.

"So I understand that you wish to return to America?" His English was heavily accented but clear.

I nodded. "Yes sir."

I fumbled around in the handbag I had surreptitiously borrowed from Evie and pulled out my American papers, placing them on the desk in front of me and smoothing them out.

The Colonel leaned forward and reached for them, his fingers slightly grazing mine. I tried to suppress a shudder, never having been so glad that I was wearing gloves.

He looked over the documents, pursing his lips in concentration. After a moment, he exhaled, seeming at once both satisfied and bored. "Well this all seems in order."

I felt my shoulders sag a little in relief.

He leaned back again, intertwining his fingers behind his head. "Maybe you would care to tell me why it is that you have decided to go home now, instead of when the war first broke out?"

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Pam and I had anticipated the question and I had practised my answer. "No one expected the war to last more than a couple of months but here we are..."

He nodded. "But here we are."

"I have family in Louisiana," I lied. "And a property. It just makes sense to go back home if I can."

The Colonel eyed me circumspectly. "And you won't be missed here?"

I forced a smile. "They understand." In truth, I hadn't said a word to anyone and I wasn't even sure if I was going to. It would probably be easier on everyone if I just left.

Paulinz shuffled through his papers. "Well, despite some less than pleasing decisions taken by your Congress in recent months, current policy is still to allow U.S. Citizens in occupied territories to return to their homes..." He smiled wryly. "How we actually get you there is quite another thing. But I shall forward the request through the appropriate channels. I suggest you you come back in, say, two weeks?"

"Two weeks?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice.

"Yes. Let us say the tenth of December, at the same time?"

I nodded, getting up to leave. "That's fine. Thank you Colonel."

I approached the door, opening it just a fraction, before pressing it closed again with a sigh. I wanted desperately to ask after Eric. I knew it wasn't wise and there was a voice in my head screaming at me to leave that office while I still could, to just keep my mouth shut, but I couldn't help it. I had to know. I turned around hesitantly to face the Colonel.

He eyed me appraisingly. "There is something else, Miss Stackhouse?"

I nodded, unable to speak for a moment as the adrenaline coursed through me. My legs were visibly shaking, I just hoped that he was unable to see from his vantage point behind the desk.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"Um, once I'm gone, my aunt and uncle will probably want to rent out a room, you know, for the extra income..."

He shrugged indifferently. "And?"

I tried to swallow the bile that had been pooling on my tongue. "Well, I guess it will all depend on whether or not Major Northman is coming back?"

His eyes flickered to meet mine, instantly critical, boring into me, and I knew at once that I had made a mistake in asking. I took a step backwards, hitting the oak door behind me.

"Major Northman?" he asked. "So you live on the Broadway Farm?"

"Yes," I rasped, my throat catching.

The Colonel continued to fix his stare on me and I could feel my hairline begin to moisten with sweat. "Ahhh, presumably then it was your uncle that I met after the unfortunate incident with Captain Dauschen."

I nodded.

"And here you are enquiring about Major Northman..."

"On behalf of my aunt and uncle..." I interjected hoarsely.

Colonel Paulinz flashed me a cruel smile. "Oh, of course. Because they want to rent the room."

I could feel colour start to bleed into my cheeks as I stood there in silence, waiting for him to speak again.

He watched me for a moment and exhaled irritably before replying, his tone harsh and unforgiving. "Miss Stackhouse, I'm not sure in what world you would expect the movements of soldiers under my command to be shared with civilians in the occupied territories—"

I gasped, forcing out a garbled apology but stopped immediately as he raised a finger to silence me.

"But..." His face twisted into a callous smile. "But that said, I understand the Major is very settled in his new posting. I'm happy for you to relay to your aunt and uncle that I don't expect him to return to Jersey any time soon... if at all."

I tried to keep my reaction neutral. Just talking about Eric felt overwhelming. A small part of me had resigned myself to the fact that he would not be returning, but on hearing Andre's revelation my heart felt like it was breaking all over again. Conscious of my audience, I nodded mutely in understanding, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. Grasping for the door handle behind me, I pulled at it forcefully, needing to get out of the Colonel's room.

I turned to him one last time. "Thank you for your time, Colonel Paulinz. I shall see you on the tenth."

His eyes flashed with unconcealed delight. "Looking forward to it, Miss Stackhouse. Looking forward to it."

0-0-0-0-0

I'd managed to avoid being alone with Bill for just over a week. I felt dreadful every time I saw him. He would look at me with expectant eyes and I knew I needed to tell him, let him down gently, but I was too much of a coward to do it. Instead, I spent a lot of time working, trying to put together some last minute extra money, or over at Pam's, planning my escape.

We had decided that I would just sneak away without telling anyone. If Cope and Evie knew, they would probably try to convince me not to go or, at the very least, there would be numerous questions that I was unprepared to answer. After all they had done for me, I wasn't sure I would be able to leave if they asked me not to. But I knew needed to run, for them almost as much as for me. And if I told Bill, or even Amelia, there was a chance they would tell my aunt and uncle. I just couldn't take the risk.

Instead, I had written five letters to leave with Pam. There was a letter for my aunt and uncle and one for Amelia. I knew that my cousin would be devastated that I had left and I wanted to explain, as best as I could, why I had to go.

Bill's letter had been even harder to write; it felt so callous rejecting his proposal in writing and so difficult to try convey in words how much his actions had meant to me when, effectively, I had chosen exile over a life with him.

I wrote a fourth letter to Jason, praying with all my heart that one day he would get to read it.

The final envelope was for Eric. I had instructed Pam to find a way to give it to him if he ever returned to Jersey. There was so much to say to him that a letter seemed somehow inadequate but I needed to let him know what had happened and most of all where he could find me after the war.

I woke early on the Monday morning, two days before I was due to return to see Andre. The pregnancy had had me feeling nauseous again for the last couple of days and I'd got up twice in the night for fear I might be sick. It was dark outside but I could tell it was morning. Bleary-eyed and still half asleep, I trudged across the landing. I exhaled heavily, watching my breath turn to steam in the cold bathroom.

After I had satisfied myself that I wasn't going to vomit, I headed downstairs, hoping that a cup of tea would make me feel a little better, or a little warmer if nothing else. I could hear voices from the kitchen and realised that Cope and Evie must be up.

I pulled my robe around me as I padded into the kitchen. The fire was ablaze and my aunt and uncle were at the kitchen table, huddled over the wireless. Evie looked up as she heard me approach, she was grinning wildly, her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"What is it?" I asked, suddenly confused. "What's up?"

The din of the BBC broadcast resounded about the kitchen as Uncle Cope leapt to his feet, wrapping his arms around my waist and swinging me about. I tried to still him as I listened to the announcer, my heart-rate accelerating as I began to piece things together.

There had been an attack, that was much obvious. The losses were high; the voice confirmed that they couldn't be sure yet of the number of casualties.

"What's going on?" I asked.

My uncle laughed, swinging me around again. "The Japanese air force attacked the American fleet at Pearl Harbour... The Yanks have joined the war!"

0-0-0-0-0

I sat there numbly as my aunt and uncle danced around the kitchen. I couldn't think; I couldn't begin to process. After a moment, Evie sat down next to me, panting and out of breath.

"You don't seem happy, Sook?" she wheezed.

I smiled weakly. "Oh, I am. Of course I am. It just seems like the attack was very bad... It feels a little wrong to be happy when so many people have died."

My aunt nodded solemnly. "You're right it does. But you have to see, with the Americans in the war, well, we'll be able to kick those damn Gerries right back to where they came from."

I nodded, unable to hold back the tears that began to fall down my cheek.

Evie wrapped her arms around me and rocked me back and forth. "Hey. There, there, what's wrong with you?"

"I don't know," I lied, shuddering with tears as I sucked in deep mouthfuls of air. "I'm scared."

Evie pulled me closer, wrapping me in her warmth. I felt enveloped in her familiar scent, feeling better as she soothed me. "Everything's going to be okay, Sookie. You'll see, it'll be okay."

0-0-0-0-0

The ground was hard with frost as I made my way across the field, my cheeks stinging with cold as I forged a path through the frigid wind. I pulled my scarf up higher, feeling my hot breath reverberate against my lips, and thrusted my hands into the warmth of my pockets.

Bill opened the door to his cottage, his astounded expression instantly breaking out into an affectionate smile. He was half-dressed; barefoot with his shirt still unbuttoned, revealing a white vest underneath. Spots of shaving cream decorated his face.

"Sookie?" He beckoned me inside. "Come in, come in."

I crossed the threshold as Bill closed the door behind me, shutting out the elements. He helped me shrug out of my heavy winter coat, hanging it up on the nearby wooden stand as I unwound my scarf and handed it to him.

He fumbled with his shirt, doing up the buttons. "You'll have to excuse me. I wasn't quite dressed."

I shook my head. "It's okay. I know it's still early. I hope you don't mind but I just had something I needed to ask?"

Bill's dark eyes found mine and he nodded. "Okay."

I reached out for Bill's hand, taking it in mine before placing it flat across my stomach. Bill's eyes went wide with surprise and then he gave me a gentle smile.

"Sookie?" he asked cautiously.

"Do you still think you can love this child as if it were your own?" I whispered.

He nodded. "I do."

I took a deep breath. "Then yes. Bill, my answer is yes."

**A/N: Close your eyes and repeat three times: "This is an Eric and Sookie story." **

**Feel better yet?**

**Want to know what happens next? You know what to do...**


	12. Chapter 12 Visualisation

**A/N: Thank you all so very much for your continued support for this story, for your reviews and adding me to your favourites/alerts. I know I've put you all through the wringer for the last few chapters and there is more angst still to come. But I'll do you a deal: if you trust me, I'll do everything I can to make it worth your while! The war 'aint over yet...**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

"**Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along." - Terry Pratchett**

**Sookie - December 1941**

Bill and I arranged for the wedding to take place a week later. My aunt and uncle had been surprised but over the moon at the news. I spun a story about becoming closer to Bill after the incident with Amelia but neither of them really questioned it; Auntie Evie had always favoured Bill as a suitor for me and I knew that Uncle Cope felt relieved that there would now be someone in the family to take over the farm, Jason never having expressed any interest in the past.

Uncle Cope drove to St. Mary the day before the wedding to collect Amelia and Maxine. Amelia returning, even just for a couple of days, meant that I was wary about inviting anyone, outside of the family and Pam, to join us for the wedding. I knew Barry especially would be a little hurt not to be included, but he had made his feelings towards my cousin very clear. I couldn't bear another scene at the wedding, for Amelia or for me. The day would be hard enough as it was.

Bill joined us all for a pre-wedding meal the evening before and I managed to force a smile as Maxine and Evie fussed over us both. Bill was both attentive and kind, flashing me an occasional smile of encouragement, or giving me a quick squeeze of my hand, when he could tell things were starting to overwhelm me. He seemed to be genuinely happy at least. It went some way to assuage my guilt at using him to protect myself and my unborn child while lying to all the people who loved me most.

That night I excused myself as early as I could to get to bed, even though I had no illusions that sleep would come to me. Amelia had watched Bill and I keenly throughout dinner, uncharacteristically quiet, and I knew that she had been waiting to get me alone. It didn't surprise me then, when there was a knock on my bedroom door, just minutes after I had crawled under the covers.

Amelia didn't wait for me to tell her to come in, running across to the bed in her night gown and bare feet. She pulled at the covers with a smile. "Budge up, Sook. It's freezing out here."

I rolled my eyes and scooted across the bed, making room for her to get in beside me and letting out a squeal as her cold feet brushed across my legs. "Your feet are freezing," I whined, giving her a nudge with my elbow as I switched the bedside lamp on. "Put some bloody socks on."

She rubbed her feet together under the covers, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders. "Stop moaning," she laughed. "I'll warm up in a sec if you don't steal all the covers."

Of course, that's exactly what I did.

We giggled as we shuffled around, trying to pull the blankets off each other, just like we used to do when we were teenagers. We often used to share a bed like this in the winter when we were younger. It felt good to do so again; it felt familiar.

"It's good to have you home, Amelia," I sighed, relenting and letting her have her fair share of the covers.

"Thanks Sook." She smiled, rolling onto her side so that we were facing each other, inches apart in the small bed. "It's good to be here."

We'd both pulled the covers up to our necks, but my nose was cold in the crisp air of the bedroom. I briefly wondered if it would snow tomorrow. Ice crystals had collected in the panes of my bedroom window. It certainly felt cold enough for snow.

"Does it feel weird being back at the farm?" I asked curiously. Did it still feel like home to her I wondered? I knew I would have missed it, if I had got the chance to leave.

She nodded. "A little. It feels different... It makes me a little sad how different." She pursed her lips, giving me a pointed look. "I tell you what's really weird though, me coming home for your _wedding_ to _Bill Compton_ when I only saw you a few weeks ago and you didn't say a bloody word."

I exhaled heavily, knowing this had been coming. I couldn't blame her, I would have done exactly the same if the shoe was on the other foot. I really didn't want to lie to her but I knew I couldn't tell her the truth either. My stomach began to pool with dread as I tried to work out what to say in reply.

I obviously hadn't provided my explanation in the allotted time because Amelia's tone was sharper, firmer a moment later. "So are you going to tell me what the hell is going on? This is Bill we're talking about. You may fool my mum and Maxine, even Dad doesn't seem to be questioning it, but I _know _you Sook. And this... this secretive, quickie wedding... this just isn't you."

I shook my head. "Amelia please? I've made the decision to marry Bill, please just respect that. Okay?" I could feel my bottom lip begin to quiver as my ever changeable hormones began to wash over me. "If you love me, you'll respect that," I whispered.

Amelia sat up, bolt upright, the blankets pooling abound her waist. "If I love you?" she asked incredulously, glaring at me. "It's because I love you that I'm asking. And I can say that, easily. I love you, Sookie. Can you say the same thing about Bill?"

I looked away, not wanting to face the scrutiny of her gaze. "Amelia, I—"

"Sook, just tell me that you love him," she appealed. "If you can tell me that, I won't ask any more questions."

I felt tears begin to sting my eyes, seeping into the pillow case.

Amelia looked at me, her expression full of concern. "Please tell me what's up?" she whispered, grabbing my hand under the covers. "Please?"

I sighed. This hadn't been the plan. "I'm pregnant," I whispered.

I heard Amelia take a sharp intake of breath. "Fuck," she muttered. She shook her head. "I can't believe this. I mean it crossed my mind but it's _you_. You would never... But how?"

I raised my eyebrow at her and she smiled.

"I mean I know _how,_ but Bill Compton, Sookie? Ughh!"

"He's a good man Amelia," I defended.

She wrinkled her nose. "I know, I know... And he offered to marry you, right? Do the gentlemanly thing. No surprises there, I suppose... But fuck Sookie, I can't believe it."

I realised then that she had assumed Bill was the father. Unlike Pam, she had never moved forward with her hunch about my affection for Eric. I was marrying Bill, so Bill must be the father. It was the logical conclusion. The less people who knew about Eric, the better; that's what I told myself. So I didn't bother to dissuade her.

I sighed, wiping my eyes and adjusting the pillow beneath me. "So now you see."

Amelia nodded, shuffling back down under the covers. "I do," she replied gently. "Sadly it all makes sense."

Amelia rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. I stayed on my side, looking across the room, staring at the wedding dress that had once been my mother's, hanging off the back of the wardrobe door. It looked eerie in the shadows of the lamplight, ethereal and ghostly. We lay there quietly for a while until Amelia broke the silence.

"This isn't how I expected it to turn out, you know? For either of us," she said quietly.

I stretched my arm across her shoulders, pulling her into me for a hug. "I know," I whispered, holding her tightly to me, glad she was here. "Neither did I."

0-0-0-0-0

"You ready for this Sookie?" Uncle Cope gave my arm an encouraging squeeze.

I nodded, pressing my lips together, painfully, in an attempt to focus on the moment at hand, instead of where my eyes kept wandering to: the front door to the church. We took a step towards the large oak doors that lead through to the nave and I could feel my whole body shaking with nerves and adrenaline. The vicar's wife had agreed to play the organ for the service and I could hear it now, the melodious tune announcing my arrival echoing hauntingly around the stone church porch.

Knowing it was time to face the inevitable, I made to push the doors open but Uncle Copley held me back, gently pulling at my arm.

"Let's just take a second," he whispered, giving me a tender smile.

I forced a smile in acquiesence.

Uncle Cope turned to face me, taking both of my hands in his. I felt calmed by his touch, feeling my heartbeat begin to steady a little.

"Sookie, I just wanted to say that, despite the sad circumstances that made you and Jason come to live with us all those years ago, I'm so very glad you did. I'm so proud to have helped raise such a kind and beautiful woman. If your parents could be here today, I know they'd agree." I looked up at my uncle, my eyes beginning to cloud with tears as he continued. "I love you as if you were my own daughter, you know that, and I want nothing more than to see you be happy..."

I gave him a sad smile, my throat catching with emotion, and hugged him to me. I inhaled his scent, fresh tobacco and the outdoors, and it made me feel grounded, safe. "I love you too, Uncle Cope."

He nodded. "I meant what I said. I want you to be happy..." His brow crinkled into a pensive frown. "...So if you are having, um, second thoughts or doubts, or anything like that, we don't have to do this, you know... We can get the hell out of here and make our excuses to everyone later."

I felt my stomach churn a little as his eyes caught mine. I wanted to look away but I couldn't.

He held my gaze, knowingly, unwaveringly. "So, tell me again, are you ready to get married? Because if you're not, I'll support you, and, despite how she goes on, so will your aunt."

I looked around me anxiously, hoping for a sign, something to tell me that I really didn't have to do this, but all I could hear was the swell of organ music and the howl of the bitter winter wind rattling against the windows of the church. Pam had been right in what she said: despite everything, sometimes I really did think I was living in a romance novel. I knew all this time some part of me, deep down, had been expecting Eric to sweep in and rescue me from this. In the last week, whenever I had been picturing this moment, it had been Eric's face I had seen waiting for me at the altar, Eric exchanging vows and kissing the bride. But this was it, the moment of truth, and he wasn't here.

Instead Bill was here in his place. He was my reality, waiting for me inside the church.

I grazed my stomach with the tips of my fingers as Pam's words echoed in my mind. _We do what we need to do, to survive._

I nodded to myself. After all my aunt and uncle had done for me, I could do this for them, to save them from the shame and humiliation. I could do this for my baby, to make a life for my child. And I could do it for me.

I wrapped my arms around my uncle, hugging him to me one last time before pulling away and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

I took a final deep, cleansing breath and then answered his question.

"Yes, I'm ready."

**Eric - April 1942 **

The months had passed by at a painfully slow pace, my first winter on Guernsey being one of the bleakest I could remember. I had turned down the chance to go home for Christmas, Beck having offered to pull some strings for me. There was no way I was going to leave Elsa behind, celebrating the holiday with Mott and the Dearborns. As it was, the pair of us had got utterly wasted by lunch time in a drastic attempt to counteract the bone dry turkey and mushy sprouts that Ruby had called Christmas lunch.

That was the day I had told her all about Sookie. I was too drunk to keep it to myself when I missed her so much and I realised I wanted someone to confide in. Talking about her made me feel closer to her somehow. Elsa had listened attentively and hadn't seemed to judge. She thought I was a fool of course, but it helped a little that she seemed to understand.

Despite the bad weather, we pushed on through building the fortifications all over the island. The POWs were in no position to complain about the harsh conditions and, when they got ill, we simply replaced them with others. Occasionally, I'd feel guilty about their lot but I knew they were better treated under my command than most other places.

It was early April when Beck called me into his office to tell me the good news.

"I'm sending you back to Jersey," he declared pompously.

My eyes went wide with surprise and elation. I couldn't quite believe it. "But... but why?"

Colonel Back let out a dismissive grunt, leaning in his chair, resting his hands on his orbicular stomach and drumming his fingers against his uniform. "It seems Colonel Paulinz can't do without you. While our fortifications are nearly complete, his project has fallen behind. He's requested you back. You and Mott... And he's asked if I could spare a nurse for the infirmary. It's good to have him owe me a favour in return so I thought I'd send Claudette."

I frowned. That wouldn't do at all. "Ludwig would be a better fit," I suggested diplomatically. "And Claudette speaks far better English, you'd be better off keeping her here..." _Away from me. And definitely away from Andre._

Beck smiled jovially like the moron he was. I could see the remnants of his lunch caught in his moustache but didn't feel in any way obligated to tell him. "Good, good... You all leave in five days. You'll report to Colonel Paulinz at nine sharp on Friday morning."

I couldn't contain my smile as I rose to leave. "Yes sir. Thank you sir."

My heart was hammering with glee. It was all I could do to stop myself from skipping out of his office.

Five days. Five days and then I would see Sookie again.

0-0-0-0-0

"It's pretty," Elsa commented, looking around her as she dismounted from the back of my bike. "I'm not sure it's as nice as the Dearborns' though. I'm really going to miss that place."

I forced a smile at her joke, but I was too restless at the thought of seeing Sookie again to enjoy it. I swung my leg over the bike, before pulling my kit bag off the back. I felt wired, a bundle of nerves.

Elsa shot me a glance and shook her head in disapproval. "You better calm the fuck down Northman, or you're going to give yourself away in the first five minutes."

I nodded, not really hearing her, not really hearing anything except my blood pounding in my ears as we approached the front door.

I still had my key but I didn't use it, reaching instead for the old-fashioned doorbell. We stood on the worn stone doorstep for what seemed like an age until finally someone pulled back the stiff old catch on the other side of the door, pulling it open. I took a deep breath, exhaling shakily and trying to hide my disappointment as I recognised Evie on the other side.

"She's hot, but I was thinking she'd be a little younger," Elsa snarked in German, earning herself a glare from me. She raised her eyebrow. "What? I was trying to diffuse some of this tension."

I turned my attention to Evie, smiling at her as she looked me up and down, hand on her hip. She had her apron on, smudges of flour across her lap and one on her temple, telling me that she had been baking. It surprised me how happy I was to see her, despite the initial anti-climax, even if by the look on her face I could tell that the feeling was not exactly reciprocated.

"Major Northman," she sighed. "You're back."

I nodded. "I am. Mrs. Broadway it's good to see you."

She pursed her lips, ignoring my comment and glancing instead at Elsa. "And I see you've brought a friend…"

"This is Nurse Ludwig, Mrs. Broadway. Elsa Ludwig."

"Hello... It is pleasure to meet you." Elsa smiled broadly, reciting the line I had taught her on the way here with a thick German accent.

Evie sighed coolly, as if Elsa's making an effort made her somehow even more of a potential nuisance.

I tried to keep my tone light in response. "I'm sorry for the lack of notice but I'm afraid that we will be intruding on your hospitality once more. Elsa will be in St. Helier for a few months. I'm afraid she doesn't really speak English, but I'm sure we'll muddle along."

"And you?" Evie asked.

"I can speak English just fine," I tried to tease but Evie's expression remained impassive. "I am here for the foreseeable future," I confirmed hurriedly after a beat.

Evie glanced between us both, looking as if she was about to say something but then stopped herself. She opened the door wider, ushering us in. "Well, I suppose you best come on in then." She exhaled frustratedly as we shuffled past her into the hallway. "Lord knows what I'm going to do for dinner, now that I have two extra mouths to feed."

I made my way into the kitchen. I half-expected to see Sookie sat at the table, reading a book or peeling potatoes, and I felt my heart sink in defeat to find that she wasn't.

"…Major?" Evie's voice broke through the fog and I realised she had asked me a question.

I spun around to face her. "Sorry Mrs. Broadway?"

She rolled her eyes. "I asked if you and Florence Nightingale wanted a cup of tea?"

I nodded distractedly, answering for Elsa too. "Please."

Evie busied herself with the tea, while I propped my kitbag up on the kitchen table, fishing out some items that I had brought for the Broadways. Elsa sat down next to me, seemingly content to watch my interactions with Evie in semi-comprehension. I approached Evie handing her a package wrapped in brown paper.

She looked at me questioningly.

"Coffee, tinned peaches and sugar," I confirmed. "I know a man who knows a man…"

Evie couldn't help but smile, despite herself. "Well, I can't say I haven't missed the food parcels," she admitted.

"It's good to know I have my uses," I laughed.

"You do at that. Sookie will be over the moon to have some coffee. I know she craves it when we run out."

I felt my heart beat faster at the mention of her name and blew out a breath to calm myself, attempting to feign casualness. "So Sookie, Copley, are they here? I should say hello. Introduce Elsa."

Evie shook her head as she placed the teapot and cups onto a tray, carrying them over to where Elsa was sat at the table. I followed behind.

"No, Cope's out seeding the back field. I suppose Sookie is at the cottage. I don't think she's working today." She poured the tea into two cups, handing one to Elsa and then to me. Elsa shook her head when offered cream. She'd perfected a kind of sign language after a few months of living with the Dearborns, but I was pretty sure she understood a fair bit of English now, even if she wasn't able to speak it.

I frowned, not quite understanding. "The cottage?"

"Yes. You know, Bill's cottage. Well Sookie's too now I guess," Evie explained, making her way back to the kitchen side, examining the packets I had given her. "I've got some carrot cookies in the fridge, if you want one?" she offered distractedly.

I placed my cup carefully back on the saucer, an eerie feeling beginning to creep over me. It was like I knew I shouldn't ask the question but I couldn't stop myself. Elsa glanced at me, sensing my unease.

"I'm sorry I don't quite understand?" I said, ignoring the offer of cookies, not bothering to translate it for Elsa. "Why is it Sookie's cottage exactly?"

"Oh, of course. You left before the wedding, didn't you?" Evie beamed. "Sookie's married now… She and Bill tied the knot just before Christmas, so I suppose the cottage is both of theirs now, isn't it?"

If I hadn't been sitting down, I think the sheer physical agony at Evie's revelation would have knocked me to the ground. I couldn't breathe; anguish twisted around my heart, grasping and squeezing painfully.

Elsa put her hand over mine sensing my distress. "What is it?" she asked with a frown.

"She's married," I rasped in my native tongue. I glanced at Evie who was humming to herself, seemingly oblivious to my reaction as she poured the dried coffee into one of the blue ceramic pots on the kitchen side. "Sookie got married," I repeated, unable to fully process the news.

Elsa's face twisted with shock but she soon collected herself, all business. She squeezed my hand. "Okay, we need to get the hell out of this kitchen. If you're going to fall apart, you can't do it here... Tell her that we're going upstairs... to unpack."

I nodded, my vision blurring in front of me, maybe with tears I wasn't sure. I got to my feet, saying something to Evie that I immediately forgot. Elsa grabbed my kitbag along with hers as I lurched towards the stairs, my mind swimming in shock.

I managed to stumble up the stairs towards my old room, Sookie's room, before slumping onto the bed, my head in my hands. Images flashed before my eyes of the last night I had spent in that bed. I groaned with anguish at the memories of Sookie, coming undone in my arms. I shook my head uncertainly, not quite able to believe this could be happening. I could sense Elsa hovering just beside me, unsure of what to do.

"How could she be married? How could she do this?" I asked, incredulously, my question aimed at no one in particular. "And to _Bill_ of all fucking people? I told her I'd come back… She said she'd wait. It's only been a few months."

I felt Elsa's small hand rub across my shoulders as she tried to calm me. "I don't know," she muttered. "I'm so sorry Eric… I don't know."

I shook my head. "I just don't understand. She loved me... I know she did."

I sat on the bed in silence, breathing heavily, trying to think things through. It was all over. All we had been through, everything I had done for her, to be with her, and it was all for nothing.

I wasn't sure how long we'd been sitting there in silence; me hunched forward, my mind in a whirl, Elsa curled up at the end of the bed, watching me. My emotions were starting to evolve; the initial shock twisting into something angrier, more dangerous, and I was suddenly feeling full of purpose.

"I'm going to see her," I announced, abruptly getting to my feet and jerking Elsa out of her quiet contemplation. "I won't let this lie."

Elsa sighed, getting up, grabbing my arm to pull me back. "Going to see her to say what, Eric? She's married to someone else. There's nothing you can do. You need to let it go."

I snorted contemptuously at the suggestion. "I want to look her in the eye when she tells me that she's married to him," I shot back bitterly. I could feel my resentment beginning to boil and I basked in the feeling, letting it wash over me, so much more comforting that than the feeling of utter loss just minutes before. "I want to hear her try to explain."

"Eric," Elsa pleaded, shaking her head. "Please think about what you're doing?"

I pulled my arm from her grip, causing her to stumble slightly before she regained her balance. "I have."

I stormed out of the room, hearing it slam shut behind me but neglecting to care.

0-0-0-0-0

I ran down the stairs, heading towards the front door, and made my way across the field to the side of the house, in the direction of Bill Compton's cottage. I saw the house before first and it was a punch to the gut, my heart breaking a little more as I noticed that the windows and front door had recently been painted, no doubt at her instruction. They had made a home together.

I felt my chest constrict when I saw her. She was on her knees crouched over a flower bed that, like most of the space to the front of the house, had been changed into a vegetable patch. She had her back to me as she busied herself, tying something to the fence, but I knew instantly that it was her. I could even imagine the expression on her face, her nose wrinkled adorably in concentration as she worked. Her blonde curls were piled on top of her head, secured by a red scarf, but some had broken loose, escaping down her neck. I watched her as she sank back on her heels, smoothing back the hair around her face with her fingers as she examined her handy work.

I approached her, my steps silent in the soft mud, until I was only paces away. I wasn't sure at what point my wrath had been replaced by anxiety. It was sunny outside but not hot; still, I could feel my palms sweating as I contemplated what to say.

"Eric!" I heard Elsa's frustrated voice echo across the field and I knew she was searching for me. "Major Northman!"

I heard Sookie's breath catch in surprise as she dropped what she was holding, her body tensing, rigid at the sound of my name. My heart began to beat frantically as I took another step forwards, towards her.

"You didn't wait for me." My voice was quiet, hoarse with emotion, but loud enough for her to hear.

She made no attempt to turn around, as if she was frozen to the spot.

I took a step closer, almost able to reach out and touch her. "How could you marry him, Sookie? Why didn't you wait for me?"

Shakily, she pushed up on one knee, before getting to her feet. Instinctively, I wanted to reach out to her, to help her up, but I resisted, giving her space. I could hear her taking a deep breath before she turned around and my heart melted a little as I took in her beautiful face, adorned with fresh tears.

"You're back," she whispered. Her eyes belied her anguish and any resentment I had carried with me across the field instantly dissipated as I acknowledged her expression, which mirrored my own.

I nodded, reaching out for her hand. "Yes."

She took a step back, bracing the palms of her hand across her stomach. I watched her, confused and hurt by the movement for the briefest of moments, until I realised.

"You're pregnant." I was unable to stifle the gasp that escaped.

She nodded, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were cascading down her cheeks.

I felt anger rise inside me, not towards her, but at Fate itself as I began to piece it all together. "How many months?" I hissed.

She shook her head sorrowfully. "Eric, please—"

"How many months?" I repeated firmly.

She looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. "Seven... Seven months."

I didn't need to do the maths; I knew exactly how long I had been away. I had counted each day, willing them to pass. Without another thought, I pulled her into my arms and she shook against me, her tears manifesting themselves into hard sobs, as we sunk to our knees on the cold spring ground.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered as I rocked her against me, gently peppering kisses across her forehead. "I'm so sorry I had to leave... I missed you so much."

"God, I missed you too," she rasped, smiling through her tears, clutching me to her, as if worried I would disappear or leave again.

I looked down at her stomach round with my child and reached tentatively towards it. She watched me as I gently placed my hand across the bump, overwhelmed with emotion, my heart feeling as if it would burst from my chest.

"She's sleeping," Sookie murmured, curling into my body with a contented smile. "She's a kicker though. She must get that from you. You always did fidget in your sleep."

I quirked an eyebrow as I smoothed my palm across her belly. "She?"

Sookie shrugged. "It just feels like a girl."

I smiled, pulling her into another embrace but I felt her stiffen against me as she pushed at my chest.

"Sookie?" I asked, confused, but she pulled back out of my arms, staring, horrified, over my shoulder.

I twisted around, to look behind me, instantly seeing red. He was there, watching us both, his expression clouded with anger.

Bill.

**A/N: Oh the drama! Yes I really did go ahead with the wedding. But at least Eric is back and he knows, right? As always, I'd really love to hear your thoughts.**


	13. Chapter 13 Infantry

**A/N: Thanks so much for your reviews everyone – hopefully I managed to reply to you all for once! I seem to have picked up an influx of new readers this week as well - so welcome to you all.**

**Those of you who are of an emotional disposition may want to get a few squares of tissue on stand-by for this chapter… Just sayin'.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

**"The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart." – Unknown**

**Eric – April 1942**

"Bill!" Sookie exclaimed, hurriedly getting to her feet and smoothing her dress over her hips. "I'm... We were just…"

Sookie's words faltered as Bill shot her a cold look before turning his attention away from her.

"You're back," he glowered at me.

Standing up slowly, I positioned myself beside Sookie, shielding her slightly. I felt an overwhelming protectiveness towards her, towards my child.

"Your eyesight is impeccable, Bill," I replied with an arrogant smirk. I reached over to Sookie, casually brushing some earth from the pleats of her skirt, before glancing back at Bill. "I wonder why you're not a pilot, or a sniper maybe?"

Sookie glanced at me nervously but I pretended not to notice. I could sense my inner bastard coming out to play and I welcomed him with open arms. Bill's pinched face, twisted with resentment, was fuelling the fire.

"Maybe you would care to tell me why my keen eyesight observed you with your hands on my wife?" Bill sneered, taking a step towards me.

I felt myself bristle with rage at his words. How dare he think he had any claim on her?

"Your _wife? _What a joke," I snorted in contempt. "I'm sure you thought all your Christmases had come at once when you found out she was carrying my child. You couldn't get her to give you the time of day under normal circumstances but this way, you could take advantage of her situation—"

Sookie let out a gasp next to me. Subconsciously, or maybe even consciously, I knew that my behaviour was upsetting her but I didn't want to stop. I was furious that Sookie and I had been put in this situation, that the world had conspired against us in such a way. Why had we been given a taste of happiness only to have it ripped away? It felt so good to lash out at Bill, to blame him for all that had gone wrong.

Bill shook his head smugly. His dark eyes were bright with hatred, but his tone was measured, almost calm. "You just don't take any responsibility at all do you? You leave her here, all alone and with child, and you think you can just step back in and pick up where you left off… Well you can't. She's mine now… It doesn't matter how she came to be my wife, Major. It only matters that she is."

"Sookie is not _yours_," I growled, incensed. Hot, white and intense, my fury was almost palpable. I stormed towards him, so that I was just inches away, towering over him. My hands were balled into tight fists, tense by my side. I wanted to hit him, to choke the lies right out of him. "And nor is the baby. That is _my_child she's carrying."

Bill's thin lips twisted into a triumphant smile. "That's not what the birth certificate will say. The baby will be raised a Compton," he taunted, squaring up to me. "I will be the only father it knows. And when we've kicked you Nazis out of Jersey, we'll still be here, a family, and you'll be long gone—"

"Please, both of you, please stop this!" Sookie's voice interrupted us, fraught and pleading.

I heard her but I just couldn't let it lie. "And what about her?" I sneered, pointing towards Sookie. "She doesn't love you. We all know it."

"Eric please don't, don't do this," Sookie begged, tugging at the sleeve of my jacket, trying to pull me back, but I stood my ground, rigid with fury.

Bill was strong from years of working in the outdoors, I knew that, but I had a massive height and weight advantage. I could crush the little worm with my bare hands and, right now, the thought filled me with delight.

He smiled tightly, refusing to back down. "You and I both know that Sookie has a big heart. She already cares for me and she'll grow to love me in time. We've made a home together and soon we will raise a child together… I'll make her happy. Can you say the same?"

That was it, I couldn't take any more. I slammed the palms of my hands against Bill's chest forcing him backwards, away from me, away from Sookie. "They'll never be yours," I hissed.

"They already are," Bill spat, losing all sense of control. He lurched forward, trying to grasp at my torso, his shoulder connecting with my chest in an attempt to drive me back. At the same time, Sookie grabbed hold of my arm, trying to pull me away from the fracas.

The feel of his hands on me was the last straw. I snapped, shoving Sookie away as I lunged towards him, my fist connecting with his face. I heard a satisfying crack as a flash of pain travelled through my hand and along my forearm. Bill stumbled backwards clumsily, his hands covering his face, but I could see blood pouring through his fingers.

At the same time I heard Sookie cry out. With horror, I looked over to see that she had fallen down, awkwardly, onto her knees in the mud. Rage was replaced with shame as I caught sight of the tears streaming down her face, tears that I'd had a role in creating.

"God, Sookie are you alright?" I ran to her, trying to gather her up in my arms but she slapped me away.

"Get your hands off me," she yelled.

"Sookie?" I pleaded, aghast. Was she hurt? Was the baby okay? Oh God. "I didn't mean to—"

She glared at me, pushing herself up onto her feet. "Look what you've done to him," she accused, walking towards Bill, one hand spanned protectively over her stomach.

To _him?_ She cared what I had done to him? I felt ablaze with jealousy.

"I asked you to stop," Sookie continued, her face flushed with annoyance. "Both of you talking about me as if I'm not even here. But, oh no, you had to go mark your territory, didn't you?"

She approached Bill, gently pulling his hands away from his face, and cursed under her breath. "We need to get you cleaned up," she said to him, her tone noticeably more tender than before.

He nodded, blood dripping down, staining his shirt scarlet. She grabbed his arm at the elbow, leading him carefully as she headed towards the cottage. I watched her walking away from me, my insides twisting anxiously.

"Sookie," I called after her. "We need to talk about this..."

She glanced over towards me, her expression softening, and gave me a gentle nod. "Go home, Eric. I'll meet you there but I need to fix Bill up first."

I nodded, sighing dejectedly, as I watched her lead Bill into his cottage, into the home they shared together.

0-0-0-0-0

Ludwig was waiting for me, sat on the stairs, when I returned to the farmhouse. She raised an eyebrow as I entered, noting the expression on my face.

"That went well then?" she enquired.

I walked past her up the stairs in silence and she followed behind, closing the door behind herself as we entered my room. The tiny space seemed to me like some sort of prison cell as I paced back and forth, trying think things through.

I felt like I had been on emotional see-saw since returning to St. Helier. I couldn't get my head around everything that had transpired. Sookie was carrying my child. But she was married to someone else. To Bill. It was Bill who got to spend every day with her, to sleep next at her at night. Flashes, images of him touching her, suddenly invaded my mind and I thought I might be sick. I wanted to tell myself she couldn't do those things I was imagining, not with him, but I wasn't naïve. I mean, she was married for God's sake.

Married. And not to me. It just didn't seem real.

Finally, I backed up against the door with a frustrated groan and slid to the floor, stretching my legs out in front of me. I looked up at Elsa, who had resumed her position on the end of the bed, sitting cross-legged and waiting patiently for me to speak.

"She's pregnant," I explained with a heavy sigh. I shucked off my jacket and chucked it in the direction of the bed; it fell short, skidding along the wooden floor and sliding into the faded valance.

Elsa closed her eyes, exhaling deeply. "Whose baby is it?"

"Mine," I answered, my voice full of wonder. "The baby's mine. I just… I can't believe it."

I was going to be a father. It was so overwhelming, amazing even. A father.

"That's why she had to get married?" Elsa asked gently.

I nodded sadly. "She's seven months gone. They would have torn her to pieces if they knew it was mine…"

Elsa got up and joined me on the floor, so we were sitting side by side, her tiny legs hardly reaching past my knees as she extended them out in front of her. She rested her head on my shoulder and took my hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. "I'm so sorry Eric."

I winced a little as she made contact with the cut adorning my knuckles. She grabbed my hand, probing the split skin, and shot me an enquiring look. "What happened?"

I groaned. "I punched him."

Elsa's eyes went wide. "The husband?"

I nodded. "The husband. _Bill_. He's such a fucking toad," I griped, the words bitter on my tongue. "He's always been in love with her, you know… And now he has her."

Elsa shrugged, still holding my hand in both of hers. "Still, he did a good thing, I suppose - an unmarried mother, a German soldier's baby. Not many men would take that on."

"I'm sure that's exactly what Sookie has been encouraged to think but don't kid yourself, Elsa, Bill Compton knew exactly what he was doing. It might be a noble gesture and I'm sure he wasn't expecting me back any time soon…" I laughed scornfully. "But he saw the opportunity to trap Sookie and he took it."

I slammed my head back against the door and let out a string of curses, feeling my anger begin to resurface. "The thought of her married to that dullard, the thought of him touching her. I want to fucking kill him… And having a baby… I can't even contemplate it… Fuck."

"What does Sookie have to say about all of this?" Elsa asked, gently inquisitive. She rubbed her small hand soothingly across my forearm, over the cotton of my shirt, and it calmed me a little.

I frowned as I considered her question. "Not much… I mean I'd only just found out she was pregnant when Bill came along and interrupted. We didn't have any time… Bill and I argued and I, well, I just saw red…"

"So you punched him?"

I nodded, feeling a mixture of shame and indignation at her accusatory tone.

Elsa groaned wearily. "So where is she now, Sookie?"

I exhaled in defeat. "She's with him, playing nursemaid... I think I may have broken his nose."

I couldn't see but I was pretty sure that Elsa rolled her eyes. "Eric!" she admonished, folding her arms in front of her. "Way to act like a fucking child. As if the poor girl hasn't got enough on her plate."

I slumped forward, my head in my hands. "I know, I know. I've made it all worse." I looked up at Elsa, pleadingly. "What the hell am I going to do, Els?"

Elsa's hard expression was suddenly full of sympathy and yet, somehow, it made me feel worse. She was usually so ebullient, so irreverent. Pity just wasn't in her nature. And yet she pitied me at this moment, I could tell.

"I'm not really sure there's anything you _can_ do," she replied gently. "She's married, Eric. Whether she loves him or not, whether the baby is yours or not, she _is_ his wife now. What God hath joined together and all that…"

I shook my head, not wanting to hear the rest of it, even though part of me knew that it was what Sookie believed, even if I did not.

She sighed. "Don't beat yourself up, Eric. Even if you were here when she found out she was pregnant, there would have been very little you could have done. She probably would still have had to marry him to protect herself. Not to mention what Paulinz would have done to you—"

"Andre can go fuck himself," I muttered. He was the one who had got me into this situation in the first place. If only I'd been here, Sookie and I could have figured something out. I was sure of it.

Elsa ignored my outburst. "So what happens next?"

"She said she'll meet me here. When she's fixed up Bill."

"Should you not go downstairs and wait for her then?" she asked.

I shrugged. "It's better to talk here. It's private. She knows where my bedroom is."

Elsa guffawed. "I don't think anyone is disputing that, do you?"

I couldn't help but smile. Ludwig always managed to cheer me up. Sometimes I didn't know how she put up with me; I had been so fucking morose since she'd known me, a different version of me. "Thanks for being here Els and for listening. Again."

She elbowed me gently in the ribs, a kind smile lighting her features. "Don't mention it, Northman. I'm sure when the love of my life gets pregnant and marries someone else, you'll be right there by my side. A pillar of strength…"

I chuckled, nudging her back. "I promise, if that happens, I'll be there for you every step of the way."

We sat there for a moment in amiable silence and then a knock on the bedroom door echoed through the room.

Sookie was here.

0-0-0-0-0

I sprang up to my feet, pulling Elsa onto hers, and then opened the door. Sookie was stood on the other side and her eyes met mine expectantly. She looked tired, weary, but had obviously tidied herself up, wiping away her tears and redoing her hair and adding a touch of red lipstick. I felt my heart somersault at the sight of her in a bright yellow cotton dress, still unable to believe I was seeing her again, my eyes alternately drawn to her lovely face and the swell of her pregnant stomach.

"Oh. I hadn't realised you weren't on your own…" I noticed Sookie glance behind me and she looked back at me, confused, maybe even slightly hurt.

"Oh, of course. Sorry. Sookie, let me introduce you to Elsa Ludwig. Elsa is a nurse in the army. She's here for a few months to help with some training." I muttered a hurried introduction to Elsa in German but she didn't need it of course. She was perfectly aware of who Sookie was.

Sookie gave Elsa a polite nod. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Ludwig."

Elsa returned her smile warmly, trying out her one line of English again, before turning to me. "I'm going to go and unpack. For real this time."

I nodded gratefully. "It's down the hall on the right. Bathroom's on the left."

Elsa heaved her kit bag off the floor, waving a quick goodbye before slipping out of the room.

I turned my attention back to Sookie, watching her as she walked over to the window and gazed out across the farm. The sun had gone in and the sky was streaked with greys and blacks, heralding that a storm was on its way.

"She knows," she said, as Elsa closed the door firmly behind her. It wasn't a question.

I nodded reflexively, even though she couldn't see me. "Yes," I confirmed out loud. "Elsa and I have become good friends over the past few months… It felt good to have someone to talk to… She doesn't judge."

Sookie turned to me raising an eyebrow, I had forgotten how much I loved it when she did that. The corner of her mouth tucked up into a cautious smile.

"Well, not too much anyway," I added with a chuckle. "She tells me I'm an idiot fairly frequently though."

Sookie laughed warmly in response before turning to look out of the window once more. "I don't know what I'm doing here," she whispered after a moment.

I took a step towards her, the pads of my fingers glancing across her bare arm. I could feel the goosebumps rise up on her skin as she shivered slightly in response to my touch. Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around her waist, over her bump, and rested my chin on her head. I stood there basking in the feel of her warmth against me, the scent of her hair consuming me. I had half-expected her to shrug me off, but instead she relaxed into me, her shoulders against my chest, the rise and fall of her breathing falling into to line with my own.

We stood there for a while not speaking, content, watching the rain through the window as it began to fall in heavy sheets across Copley's wheat fields.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, kissing the top of her head. I didn't want to break the peace we had found but I had to apologise. "For what happened before, knocking you over. It was an accident, you have to know that?"

I could feel her tense a little against me as my words brought her back into the moment. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me Eric. And I'm fine, really I am. The baby's fine too…" Sookie blew out a frustrated breath. "But I wished you had behaved better, you know? You broke his nose, for God's sake."

I groaned. "I know I fucked up. But I was just so angry. And jealous. The thought of you with him, it just fills me with rage. I want to kill him just for thinking he has a right—"

Sookie pulled herself out of my arms and turned to face me. "Bill is a good person," she defended. "He was there to help me when I needed him most." She looked away. The implication was there in her voice. He was there for her, when I couldn't be. "He didn't deserve what you did. He loves me."

I grabbed her by the arms, making her look at me. "But you don't love him," I challenged.

Sookie's eyes glazed over with unshed tears. "No. I don't. But Eric, he's my _husband _now."

Cold fingers of trepidation began to creep their way over my body. "Sookie?" My voice was barely audible. "What exactly are you saying here?"

She met my gaze, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, while the other rested across her middle. I wondered briefly if Bill made her cry as much as I seemed to. Did he have the power to hurt her the way I could?

Sookie walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge. She patted the space next to her and I obliged, propping myself next to her, my body turned in to face her.

I heard her taking a breath, calming herself before she spoke. "Eric, I came to tell you that I can't be with you anymore. Not… Not like we used to be. I love you more than anything in the world but I made a vow to Bill and I have to keep it." She shook her head, her face twisted with pain. "I can't betray him. I won't do it."

I recoiled away from her as if she had slapped me, trying to breathe as the room seemed to close in around us, the air thickening, dense and cloying. The rain was louder, heavier, drumming against the roof. I couldn't get enough air. I felt dizzy, her perfume, the aroma of Evie's baking downstairs, all at once sickly sweet and suffocating as it invaded my nostrils.

"What… what about the baby?" I rasped. My vision began to blur and I blinked it clear.

Sookie looked away; her voice was distant, but resolute. "As far as everyone is concerned, the baby is Bill's."

I shook my head, refusing to hear it. Sorrow came at me in waves, threatening to capsize me. "Please don't do this, Sookie," I warned.

She closed her eyes and whispered. "Don't you see it's for the best?"

"How can you even say that? It's for the best," I snarled. I could a tear running down my cheek but I refused to wipe it away, the tangible evidence of my pain.

She shook her head, reaching out for me but I shrugged away from her touch. "Please don't make this any harder, Eric," she begged, trying again to hold me.

I couldn't stand to push her away a second time, and reached for her and wrapping her in my arms. "Sookie, please…."

She wept against me, her tears soaking into my shirt. "I have to," she sobbed. "It's too late. There's no other way. Please, you have to understand."

I leaned back from her embrace, my lips finding hers. I kissed her hungrily, urgently, filling the kiss with all my pain, all my longing and need. Sookie wrapped her arms around me, returning my kiss with fervour, crawling into my lap, trying to get closer still. I felt her on every inch of my skin, even through my clothes. Finally we pulled apart, our breathing laboured as she curled into me, her head on my chest as she listened to my heart. I wrapped my arms around her clinching her to me as my hand stroked over her stomach. We sat there, holding each other for minutes, hours, I couldn't tell, listening to the rain. Finally, she reached up to me and brushed her lips gently against mine.

A lingering kiss goodbye.

"I have to go," she murmured.

My hand grasped for hers as she got to her feet, more to prolong contact with her than to stop her from leaving. Somewhere in our time together my anger had transformed to reluctant understanding. She had been so strong in my absence and I wouldn't make this harder for her now.

"I love you," I whispered.

She glanced back at me, a sad smile adorning her beautiful face. "Always."

**Sookie – June 1942**

I looked down at the little bundle in my arms, wrapped tightly in a yellow knitted blanket, and felt as if my heart would burst.

"She's so beautiful," I croaked, my vision blurring with tears.

Auntie Evie smiled at me, indulgently. "It's true. I'm sure I've never seen a prettier baby."

I ran my finger over her tiny button nose as I rocked her against me, unable to imagine loving anything more.

"Have you had any more thoughts about names?" my aunt enquired, looking to me and to Bill who was sat in the chair beside the bed watching us with a soft, contented smile.

I shook my head ruefully before ghosting kisses on each of her tiny fingers. "I can't seem to find anything that fits. I thought when we saw her, we would just know, but I guess it doesn't work like that."

"Well, you'll have to come up with something soon," Evie teased. "Bill's got to get her registered."

As if in agreement, my daughter let out a fearsome wail. I sighed, glancing up at my aunt while I felt the cloth diaper. "I've just fed her but I think she might need changing."

Evie held out her arms. "Here. Give her to me."

"I can do it," I assured her. I made to get up but grimaced with pain at the movement, sinking back in defeat. Bill stood up to help me, easing me back into the bed and plumping up the pillows behind me.

My aunt tutted her disapproval. "You need to stay where you are. It's time you got some sleep. I'll take the little miss and change her and then put her down for her nap."

"Sookie," Bill chided me gently. "You just gave birth a couple of hours ago. You need to sleep and let your body heal. Let your aunt handle this? Please?"

"You're right," I agreed, expelling a weary sigh. "I'm exhausted." I kissed my daughter one more time before reluctantly handing her over to my aunt. "Thank you… Both of you."

Bill stooped over me, placing a chaste kiss on top of my head. "Sweet dreams sweetheart."

0-0-0-0-0

I woke up with a start, sensing someone in the room with me.

Through bleary eyes I looked around to see Eric, sitting in the chair by the bed. The baby was in his arms, gurgling happily as he rocked her back and forth. The sunlight pored through the open window, lighting them from behind like a faded photograph and I felt my chest constrict with both sorrow and adoration at the sight of them together.

Eric looked up at me, a huge smile decorating his features.

"She looks just like you," he whispered, his eyes blurry with emotion. "She's just so beautiful. God Sookie, she's perfect."

I pressed my lips together, fighting back my feelings. "Eric, what are you doing here?" I whispered. "If anyone sees you…"

Eric shook his head. "Shhh. It's okay… Bill's back at the farm, Evie's feeding him up. I knew it was safe to come so I snuck out… I – I just had to see you. Both of you."

I let myself relax a little at his explanation. Eric's carefree grin was infectious; I found myself beaming with joy, watching him as he rocked our tiny daughter back to sleep. I held out my hand for him and he took it, holding the baby in one arm as he rubbed his thumb over my skin. It felt so right, all of us together.

Finally he got up, slowly, and walked over to the cot, placing her gently down onto the soft mattress. He stood there watching her sleep for a minute before looking up at me and giving me a sad smile. "Whatever we might have to endure now, it will always be worth it. To have her. To know that we made that tiny, perfect thing."

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks, knowing exactly what he meant.

Eric came over to the bed perching on the side. He reached over to me, wiping my tears with his thumb. "I'm so proud of you," he murmured into my skin, ghosting a kiss across my forehead.

I wrapped my arms around him, savouring the feel of him one more time, just for a stolen moment before he pulled away.

"I should go," he whispered, gazing over at our sleeping daughter for a final time. I nodded, holding onto my tears, and watching him in silence as he slipped out of the room.

Ignoring any discomfort, I sunk down into the bed, clutching the pillow to me as comfort and spotted two long-stemmed white roses lying on the bedspread. I knew instinctively there was one for each of us, one for me and one for our baby. With a smile I brought the flowers to my nose, inhaling their perfume. I closed my eyes, drifting back into sleep with the roses on my pillow, knowing that I had my sign.

I woke again, I'm not sure how much later, to find Auntie Evie bustling around the bedroom. She placed a dinner tray at the bottom of my bed and seeing me stir, came over to help me sit up.

"I've made you some fish pie," she explained, propping the tray on my lap. "And there's strawberries too…You need the goodness… Eat up, she's quiet for now but she'll be wanting feeding again soon."

I smiled my thanks before tucking in to the fish pie with vigour, suddenly starving hungry.

Auntie Evie bent over the cot, checking on the baby, before coming and sitting next to me in the chair. She stretched her legs out in front of her, rubbing her joints with a tired sigh.

"Bill and I were talking about baby names over lunch," she informed me, wrinkling her nose. "I think he favours Edith, after his mother."

I rolled my eyes. "He's tried that one already. We're not calling her Edith. I've always hated the name and from what Bill tells me about his childhood in Southampton, she was an old battleaxe anyway."

Evie chuckled. "Your uncle wanted Horatio, if we had a boy. He was bloody insistent. I was so relieved when Amelia came out. I think I cried with relief more than anything else!" She smiled at the memory. It was strange to think of Amelia as her baby, now that I had my own. "Still, you're going to have to name the poor little blighter at some point..."

I nodded in agreement. "I know. And actually I've thought of a name." I took Eric's flowers in my hand, placing them delicately on the nightstand.

My aunt gave me a questioning look. "Well? Out with it," she demanded.

"Rose," I smiled. "I'm going to name her Rose."

**A/N: *Slumps in chair exhausted* That was possibly the hardest chapter I've had to write for this story so far. Whose bloody idea was it to write an angst-athon anyway? Your reviews really do make my day, so all feedback appreciated. **

**Next chapter? We take the foot off the angst pedal (well, just a little…) **


	14. Chapter 14 Incendiary

**A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind reviews for the last chapter. **

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. **

"**Occasionally we sigh for an earlier day when we could just look at the stars without worrying whether they were theirs or ours." - Bill Vaughan**

**Eric – August/September 1942**

The next few months back in St. Helier seemed to drag by. Considering that they lived so close to the farm, I saw very little of my daughter or Sookie in the weeks after the birth.

Coming up to harvest season, the farm itself was buzzing with activity and, like the year before, Barry and a few other local men came in from town each morning to help Bill and Copley work the fields. Barry would nod a sheepish hello if he saw me, but generally the new farm hands' attitudes to Elsa and I ranged from stony silence to outward hostility.

Bill and I steadfastly ignored each other the few times I saw him at breakfast. His nose had begun to heal though, the swelling almost totally gone, but Elsa and I would still amuse ourselves over Evie's porridge, concocting possible stories he had spun to others to explain what had happened.

The only news I received of Sookie would be the snippets of information I would glean from Evie every now and again. A few days after I snuck in to visit them, she had told me that Sookie had chosen to call the baby Rose. I had been unable to hide my smile, knowing that it fitted my daughter perfectly and that, just maybe, the choice of name had had something to do with me.

I had also seen Sookie from a distance once or twice around town, strolling with a navy-blue pram, along with a glamorous-looking blonde woman whom I was fairly sure was Pam. Sookie always looked so content; she chatted animatedly with passers-by, bending over the pram and fussing over Rose, showing her off and smiling for all to see. It made my heart throb to be just seconds away from them both and unable to do anything about it, but if Sookie had managed to find some happiness, I didn't want to be the one to ruin it. So instead I watched them from afar and let them be.

About three months after Rose was born, I came back to the farm early one afternoon. I could hear laughter coming from the kitchen as I entered the front door, and I felt my heart accelerate as I recognised Sookie's voice. Toeing my boots off on the mat, I padded tentatively towards the kitchen, molten anticipation spreading out from the pit of my stomach.

Sookie was facing the doorway, chatting away to her aunt, as I approached. She had lost a little weight since the last time I saw her but she looked healthy and beautiful and it ached to see her so close. As if sensing me enter the room, she stopped talking, her gaze flickering upwards, her eyes betraying her surprise as she realised it was me.

"What is it, Sook?" Evie asked nosily, twisting around in her seat. Her curiosity dimmed instantly when she saw me. "Oh, Major Northman. You're back early."

I smiled, trying to breathe, as my gaze settled on Rose, balanced on her great aunt's knee. Evie's hands were under her little arms, propping her up, but she was looking around her, alert and aware. It was crazy how much she had changed since the last time I had seen her. She filled her pink knitted dress like a tiny Buddha and her hair was longer, tiny golden tufts framing her lovely face, sticking out haphazardly from underneath her matching woollen bonnet.

Sookie recovered first, her voice cutting through my daze. "Um, it's nice to see you, Major."

I looked up at her and she smiled, a pink blush spreading over her cheeks.

"Hello Sookie," I replied, returning her smile, before glancing at my daughter once again. Rose shouted out at no one in particular, a nonsensical 'gah' that made my heart swell nonetheless.

I noticed Evie frowning at me slightly and I realised I must have looked slightly insane, fixating on the baby the way I was. "Um, hello there, Mrs Broadway."

"We weren't expecting you till around six," Evie suggested sharply, still eyeing me cautiously.

I tried to focus on her for a moment, straightening up, trying to snap myself out of it. "Oh, I know. But, well, I tore my jacket, so I came home to change."

I lifted up my sleeve, flashing it at them all in evidence, so that Evie, at least, wouldn't suspect some sinister ulterior motive.

"Are you still working down by the docks, Major?" Sookie asked politely, trying to make normal conversation.

I chuckled. "Yes, but I normally stay away from any of the heavy lifting. This will teach me to get involved. Still at least my jacket was the only casualty, I suppose."

Evie pursed her lips disapprovingly, at what I wasn't sure, before pointing over to the kettle. "I was going to fix a fresh pot. Would you like one, Major?"

I smiled to myself, knowing it wouldn't take her long. Evie couldn't be in the same room as anyone, even someone she disliked, and a kettle, without offering them a cup of tea.

"That would be great, Mrs Broadway." Truth was, if Evie had offered me a mug of stale sewage I would have agreed to drink it, just to have an excuse to stay in the kitchen a little longer.

Evie got up to put the kettle on, handing Rose over to her mother. Sookie sat the baby on her knee, rocking her slightly as Rose chewed contently on her own fist. Ignoring social etiquette, I slipped into Evie's seat, wanting to be as close as possible to them both.

"This must be Rose," I murmured, giving Sookie a knowing smile before holding my finger out to touch her little hand. Her tiny digits instantly curled around my own, refusing to let go. I grinned proudly, looking up at her mother. "She has quite the grip."

Sookie returned the smile but her eyes remained sad, thoughtful. I held her gaze for a moment as Rose tried to guide my hand towards her mouth.

"You can say that again," Evie called over with a chuckle. "You should see her when she grabs my hair. She's stronger than she looks, that one."

I nodded my acknowledgement before turning my attention back to Rose. I sat there for a moment, watching her as she chewed toothlessly on my finger and some of her own. I could feel her saliva dribble down my wrist but I didn't care. I couldn't actually remember ever feeling more content than I did at this moment.

Sookie leaned towards me, affording me a fleeting glimpse down the dark blue housedress she was wearing, at her breasts which were lusciously round and heavy. She was suddenly close enough that I could smell her hair, that unique scent that I yearned for night after night saturating my senses.

Sookie took my torn sleeve between thumb and forefinger. "I can fix that, you know," she offered, a wry smile on her face as she caught me staring. "It's only the seam. It won't take me very long."

Her fingers skimmed across the flesh of my palm, and I felt myself tense. Her touch was so fleeting that I wondered if I might have imagined it, but one look at Sookie's blush sweeping across her skin told me that I hadn't.

"You can?" I asked, glancing uneasily at Evie. All at once, I could feel the energy hum between Sookie and I, our skin still so close, making it hard to sound unaffected. I cleared my throat. "That would be great."

"Sure," Sookie smiled. She watched me for a second, scraping her teeth nervously over her bottom lip. All this time apart and I knew she could feel it too. I heard her take a deep breath and I could tell she was trying to focus, telling herself that what she was feeling was wrong.

She sighed. "I can do it now, if you like. Auntie Evie's sewing box is over there by the fire." She pointed over to a fairly large wooden box with an ivory carry handle and metal feet, tucked away by the side of the mantelpiece. "If you grab that, I could do it while you have your tea?"

I didn't want to move away from her and Rose, understanding the moment would be lost if I did, but I knew I had to. Sighing internally, I pushed myself to my feet and carried the sewing box back over to where we were sitting. I set it down next to Sookie and she leaned forward, sliding the lid off the box, one arm securing Rose around the middle, one hand rooting through the box to find the right supplies. Rose kicked her legs out into the air and I noticed with a smile that her toes

looked exactly like my mother's, the last two crossing over slightly as if promising to keep a secret.

"You'll need to take your jacket off," Sookie teased, sinking back into her chair and placing a needle and some dark thread on the table. "I don't want to stab you with my needle."

I nodded, shirking off my jacket, ready to give it to her.

"And would you mind holding Rose?" she added. "I'll need both of my hands free while I work." Her voice sounded nonchalant but her eye caught mine and I knew she had orchestrated it this way.

"Of course not," I answered matter-of-factly for Evie's benefit, but I couldn't hide my excited smile. "That's fine."

Evie looked over from where she was brewing the tea. "Oh don't bother the Major, Sookie," she chided. "I can take her in a sec."

I practically wrenched the baby out of Sookie's hands. "Really it's no problem," I called out, lifting Rose up in front of me, until I was eye to eye with my daughter.

Rose's gaze fixed on me, dreamily, and the corner of her mouth tucked up into an amused smile, accentuating the dimples in her plump little cheeks. She was so incredibly beautiful, a miniature version of her mother. I pulled her into me, placing a delicate kiss on her tiny little nose and whispering words to her in my native tongue that I would never be able to say to her in English.

I looked over at Sookie, who was watching us intently, before hoisting Rose up in the air and causing her to guffaw. "I think she likes me," I suggested with a grin.

Sookie rolled her eyes. "She's eleven weeks old. At this point, she likes everybody."

I laughed, turning to my daughter. "No you definitely like me, don't you Rose?"

As if on cue, Rose let out a little gurgle of sound and reached forward, trying to grab my face. I looked back at Sookie as if to say _I told you so_ and she laughed.

Evie approached the table, placing a cup of tea down for me and Sookie, before wrapping her hands around Rose's waist to take her from me. I tried to hide my disappointment as I let her go and watched as Evie took her over to the rug by the fire, laying her on her front with some toys.

"She's got so big," I whispered, shaking my head incredulously as I turned back to Sookie. "I can't believe how big."

Sookie smiled proudly, as she threaded the needle, breaking the thread between her teeth. "I know. She's a little lump and total madam, I can tell you. I think she gets the tantrums from her Auntie Pam... She started rolling last week. Now I can't take my eyes off of her for a second or she'll have rolled half way out of the room."

I shrugged, beaming with delight. "She's just inquisitive. My mother always says I was exactly the same at that age. Wait till she starts crawling, I was—"

Sookie shot me a look before glancing nervously towards her aunt and I cursed internally as I realised what I had said. I looked over behind me, sighing with relief to see Evie on her knees, busy playing peekaboo with Rose and ignoring us both.

"Sorry," I mouthed, turning back to Sookie.

She laughed tensely. "Not your fault," she whispered. "You didn't even say anything wrong really, I overreacted… It's just, well, it's a bit of a shock, you being here this afternoon."

I pondered her words. "You've been coming when you thought I wouldn't be here, haven't you?"

She looked down at her sewing, nodding contritely. "I thought it was for the best," she whispered and I tried not to flinch at those words again. _For the best._ "It's just too hard... I made a promise to Bill, but if I saw you, I wasn't sure I could keep it..."

I reached out for her hand, feeling it tremble slightly beneath mine. She looked up to meet my gaze. I wanted to ask her what about my promise? _What about the promises she made to me?_ But I knew this wasn't the time or the place.

"It's okay," I assured her. "It'll be okay."

She gave me a grateful smile before I pulled my hand away so she could resume sewing. I watched her for a while in silence, drinking my tea as she finished up stitching my sleeve. My eyes traced the little lines of concentration on her brow and nose and I wanted to kiss them smooth again.

"But you're happy?" I asked after a moment, searching for reassurance.

She closed her eyes for a second and nodded. "I'm happy enough," she sighed. "You were right. I have Rose and because of her, I can bear everything else."

I nodded. She gave me a tentative smile and I returned it, grateful that we were at least able to have this time together. A shrill cry pierced through the moment as Rose started wailing behind us. I turned in my seat, watching Evie as she heaved the baby up off the floor.

Lifting my jacket out in front of her, Sookie inspected her handiwork with a critical eye. "Here you go, Major," she said offering it to me. "Good as new."

I expressed my thanks as Evie walked over to join us. "I think the little miss is hungry," she announced.

"Isn't she always," Sookie chuckled, before reaching out to take the baby.

I took that as my cue to exit. Evie would definitely have me arrested if I stayed to watch Sookie breastfeed. I drained the remainder of my tea and stood to leave, putting on my jacket as I did so.

I said a polite goodbye to Evie. I knew stealing a kiss from Rose would probably look too strange, so I bent in front of her, working my finger into her little fist. Rose ignored me, her crying fit currently more important than anything else, but it felt good to touch her one last time.

Finally I stood up and gave Sookie a grateful grin. "Goodbye Sookie. Thank you so much for the jacket."

She smiled. "You're welcome, Major. We'll see you again soon?"

"I hope so." I replied, taking one last look back at them before I walked out of the kitchen.

I felt an overwhelming sense of determination as I made my way down the drive, back towards the harbour.

I had been a fool up to now, but today had decided it: I wasn't letting either of them go without a fight.

0-0-0-0-0

"It was so good to see them, Els," I explained, sitting perched on the end of the examination table in Elsa's room. "Rose has got so big and she's so smart and alert… She's even speaking."

Elsa slapped the back of my hand so that I stopped squeezing the blood pressure pump that I'd been playing with. She looked up at me and raised her eyebrow. "Speaking? At three months?" she asked sceptically.

I smiled sheepishly. "Well maybe not actual words but certainly making sounds. I'm sure she's very advanced for her age though."

Elsa rolled her eyes but I knew she was happy for me. "I'm sure she's a veritable genius, Eric. Either way, she's bound to have a huge ego, just like her father."

I smirked. "Well you're a nurse, Els. You must know that some men's _egos_ are bigger than others…"

Elsa shook her head disdainfully, trying to stifle a smile. "And did you get to speak to Sookie?" she asked, ignoring me.

I sighed. "Not a great deal, because Evie was in the room, but I know that she—"

We were interrupted by a sound of knocking at the door. I shot Elsa a quizzical look but she shrugged, indicating that she wasn't expecting anyone, and then shouted out for the person to come in. Private Schmidt opened the door tentatively, looking red-faced and out of breath. He saluted when he saw us and I did the same.

"What can I do for you, Private?" Elsa asked, eyeing him warily.

Schmidt looked between us nervously. "Actually Fraulein, I was looking for the Major. I tried down at the harbour but someone suggested he might be here."

"What do you want from me, Private?" I asked with a laugh.

"It's Colonel Paulinz, sir," Schmidt relayed, wiping the smile from my face. "He ordered me to find you immediately and tell you to report to his office."

Elsa and I exchanged a curious glance as I stood up and addressed the Private. "I guess we shouldn't keep him waiting then?"

Schmidt shook his head, seriously. "No sir. He wouldn't like that."

I muttered a quick goodbye to Elsa before Private Schmidt and I headed at a brisk, but silent, pace, over to the Colonel's office. I went through all the potential scenarios in my head, wondering what on earth could be so important. I even considered asking Schmidt but knew it would be a little undignified to harry an inferior for information. In any case, he probably wouldn't know and, from the way he seemed to worship Andre, certainly wouldn't tell.

When we arrived, Schmidt knocked resolutely against the oak door before opening it up and ushering me inside.

Andre looked up as I walked in. "Sit down Major," he instructed, his mouth pulled into a grim line.

He gestured to a chair next to where Corporal Mott was already seated. I heard the door shut firmly behind me as Schmidt resumed his usual vigil outside Andre's door. Nodding a curt hello to Mott, I took my seat, removing my hat and resting it in my lap. The Corporal smiled at me briefly, a knowing smirk that had me questioning all the more what this was about.

"Private Schmidt suggested that there was something important you needed to discuss," I asked cautiously, feeling slightly paranoid. My thoughts drifted back to Guernsey, to when Mott had interrupted Elsa and me. Did he hear something after all? Had he said something to the Colonel?

Andre nodded solemnly, looking briefly at Mott, before sinking back into his chair with a heavy sigh. "Yes. I'm afraid the situation is rather serious."

Andre's office felt impossibly warm, too small for the three of us all of a sudden. I glanced between them both, trying to scrutinise their expressions. Andre remained sombre; I noted for the first time that he didn't have a drink in his hand, which was never a good sign. Mott, on the other hand, just looked slightly bored. I drummed my fingers on the top of my hat as I waited for the Colonel to speak again.

"It seems the Shah of Iran has been deposed by British and Russian forces," Andre explained. "As you will no doubt be aware, he was an ally of the Reich."

I breathed an internal sigh of relief; this wasn't about me at all. I looked briefly again at Mott, who was scraping at something on his sleeve with his thumb nail, barely paying attention.

"That is very unfortunate news, sir," I commiserated, noticing Andre waiting on my reply. "I'm sure our men out there in the Middle East will recover the territory soon enough."

Andre nodded. "Yes, yes, I'm sure... However, it seems that the Allied forces have taken it upon themselves to intern a number of German civilians living in Iran, most particularly some 500 essential war technicians."

"I see…" I replied with a frown.

"The Fuhrer is fuming, as you can imagine, and has personally ordered that we respond here in the Channel Islands."

"Respond?" I asked carefully, not liking where this was going one bit.

"British civilians to trade for our German ones," Andre stated matter-of-factly.

Mott smiled, finally interested in proceedings. "…Only German lives are clearly worth more, so we'll be rounding up twenty Brits for every German they've taken."

I closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the prickle of the closely cropped stubble of my hairline. "So let me get this clear, we're under orders to intern British subjects as some kind of retribution…"

Mott nodded gleefully. "Anybody born on the British mainland, together with their spouse and children. And any of the scum who served in the British Army in the last war. We'll be shipping them all off to camps on the continent."

I was unable to stop myself cursing under my breath. I knew Copley had served in the First World War; we had talked about it many times.

Andre sighed. "I know. It's a real pain. But Beck will be undergoing a similar exercise on Guernsey, so we need to ensure that it goes smoothly here too."

"And did you want me to lead the operation?" I asked cautiously. At least if I were running things, I might somehow be able to help Copley.

Andre shook his head and my stomach lurched in disappointment. "No. You have enough to do with the harbour project. Mott will be running things, under my supervision. I'm promoting him to Sergeant."

Mott flashed me a self-satisfied grin and I had to resist the temptation to roll my eyes.

"Congratulations, Sergeant," I offered, forcing a smile instead. I turned back to Andre. "How exactly will we know who to round up and who not to?"

"We have the public records. And all British-born residents of the Channel Islands were required to register last year," Mott reminded me, even though I hadn't addressed my question at him. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"We may issue a few exemptions for critical work," Andre interjected. "Essential construction staff, that kind of thing, and there doesn't seem much point in letting any doctors or nursing staff rot away in a camp when we need all we can get on the island. But I suspect we'll still have plenty of candidates to keep the Fuhrer happy."

"When is all this happening?" I asked, still slightly overwhelmed at the news.

"There's a notice going out in this evening's newspaper," he explained. "It requires the relevant individuals to assemble tomorrow afternoon with their luggage packed. Mott's already arranged the transportation."

"So soon?" I breathed.

Andre nodded firmly. "The Fuhrer has demanded an immediate response. I just wanted to brief you, so you are aware."

"Thank you, sir," I muttered distractedly, deep in thought.

It was all so soon. I had no idea whether I would be able to do anything to help Copley but I needed to tell Sookie straight away, to prepare them all for the worst.

I made to get up. "Will that be all, Colonel?"

Andre nodded, dismissing me, and I hurried out of the room, wondering how on earth I was going to break this news to the Broadways.

0-0-0-0-0

I pounded on the door to Sookie's cottage, not caring if Bill answered or not. I was ready for another showdown if I needed to be.

After a moment, Sookie opened the door, rubbing her eye with her fist as she did so. She looked like she'd dressed in a hurry; she was wearing the outfit I'd seen her in yesterday but it looked rumpled. Her hair seemed a little unruly, bits sticking out as if she'd slept on it and hadn't had time to brush it.

"Eric," she croaked, surprised to see me.

I frowned. "I woke you up."

She nodded, self-consciously smoothing her hands over her hair and down the front of her dress. "I managed to put Rose down for a nap. These days I only really get to sleep when she does."

I gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

She waved dismissively. "Don't worry about it. If I'm lucky, I'm sure I'll be able to catch two or three hours tonight."

I chuckled. "Now I feel really guilty."

She grinned. "So you should. It's all your fault, after all."

I looked behind her into the hallway. "I take it Bill's not home."

Sookie's smile suddenly cleared, as if remembering herself, and I hated that I had been the one to break the moment.

"No. He's gone into town to do deliveries," she explained. "Eric, why are you here?"

I sighed. After all the progress we had made yesterday, I hadn't thought that these would be the circumstances under which I would see her again. "I need to speak to you about your uncle. It's very urgent or I wouldn't be here, I promise."

Sookie nodded, her face set with understanding as she stood back, opening the door wider, inviting me to come in. I took a step into the small hallway, looking around me curiously. There was a small fireplace to my left and a dark wooden staircase in front of me, leading upstairs. It was a fairly dreary space but there were signs that Sookie had tried to brighten it up: a small vase of wild flowers was sitting on top of the fireplace and a painting of a seascape, that I recognised as one of Amelia's, hung over the mantelpiece.

"Let's go into the kitchen," she suggested, leading me past a pretty yellow sitting room, which seem far more to her tastes, and on into the kitchen.

The room itself wasn't that big, maybe a third of the size of the kitchen at the farm, but it was sunny and bright and spotlessly clean. There was a butler sink under the back window and a row of varnished wooden cupboards along that wall. To the left of the kitchen there was a large white fridge, looking slightly battered and as if it had seen better days, and a wooden dresser, with plates and other china, that had been painted a pale green. Along the right-hand wall, there was an old stove, with pots and pans decorating a shelf above it. Sookie pointed me towards the wooden table, in the centre of the room, surrounded by four matching chairs, all painted the same green as the dresser.

"It's a nice room," I offered, as Sookie padded to the fridge, getting out a jug of sweet tea, and two squat tumblers from the dresser.

She took a seat next to me, pouring me a glass. She shrugged. "Bill inherited most of the furniture from his mother... It was all rather heavy and oppressive. But we managed to sand some of it down and paint it. Pam helped us..." She smiled with recollection and I tried to bite down on my resentment, not wanting to hear stories of how Sookie and Bill had made a home together. "Well Pam barked instructions while Bill, Barry and I did all the work. Still, I think it looks a little better now."

I took a sip of my tea, to calm myself, as Sookie looked at me expectantly.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" she asked softly.

"Yes," I nodded.

"But you needed a minute first," she surmised.

"Yes."

"Eric, you're really starting to freak me out..." she whispered hoarsely.

I sighed, knowing there was no way to sugar coat it. I just needed to tell her. "Sookie, the thing is that we are under orders to start interning people."

"Interning people?" she gasped, her hand over her chest in shock. "Why? My God, what does that even mean? And what does this have to do with Uncle Cope?"

I slumped back in my chair, rubbing my hand through my hair. "It means that everyone, like your uncle, who served in the British forces in the last war, together with all those people on Jersey born on the British mainland _and_ their families, even if they were born here, are going to be shipped off to camps, probably in France and Germany, maybe even Poland... There's going to be an announcement tonight's Jersey Evening Post and they're going to start shipping people out tomorrow."

Sookie's face was blotchy with anger. She shook her head, furiously. "No, they have no right. They-they can't do this—"

I sighed. "I'm so sorry Sookie but they can do this, and they are going to... Please try not to worry, I'll do all I can to get your uncle out of this. I promise you that. It's a numbers exercise more than anything. They just want their pound of flesh. One middle-aged man isn't going to make that much of a difference in the scheme of things."

She shook her head, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears. "You don't understand, it's not just Uncle Cope…"

I frowned in confusion. "Well, none of the rest of you served in the army... and I know you weren't born in the Channel Islands but you weren't born on the mainland either, so you're fine..."

Sookie's deep blue eyes held my gaze, almost pleading for me to understand. "Bill didn't even come to St. Helier until he was fifteen, Eric... after his mother died," she explained. She was trembling slightly and I could hear it in her voice. "He... he lived in England before that. He was born there... in Southampton."

I looked at her, feeling the colour drain from my face as I processed the implications.

"You see what that means?" she whispered, wiping away a tear that had collected on her cheek. "If they're taking families too? I'm his wife—"

"No." I tensed my jaw, refusing to hear it.

Sookie persisted. "As far as records show, Rose is his child…"

I shook my head, defiantly, a high, keening panic starting to envelop me.

"Eric, if Bill has to leave, then so do we."

**Sookie – September 1942**

As soon as Eric had gone, I woke up Rose and ran over to the farm, leaving a note for Bill to meet me there. My aunt had taken the news with characteristic drama, equal parts lamenting at the loss of her family and angrily cursing the Nazis for ever having darkened our door. Uncle Cope's reaction was far more measured but he looked old and frail all of a sudden, not unlike the day he'd found out about Amelia and Tray. I found myself resenting the Gerries almost as much as my aunt, for doing this to us, for doing that to him again.

Bill had already heard by the time he got back to the farm, St. Helier already frantic with the news and I knew Sam and Pam would be in for a bust night at the pub. Bill had brought a copy of the Evening Post home with him and we all four sat at the kitchen table, pouring incredulously over the announcement as Rose cried unrestrainedly, tired and irritable, her mood reflecting my own.

_**By Order of the High Command the following British subjects will be evacuated and transferred to Germany: **_

_**(a) Persons who have their permanent residence not on the Channel Islands, for instance those who were caught here by the outbreak of war. **_

_**(b) All those men not born on the Channel Islands and 16 to 70 years of age who belong to the English people, together with their families.**_

_**Together with any person who served in the British armed forces between 1914 and 1919.**_

_**Detailed instructions will be given by the Feldkommandatur. **_

_**Der Feldkommandant, Paulinz. Oberst **_

I wasn't sure how many hours had passed or how many cups of tea had been drunk, but it was pitch black outside by the time I heard the rumble of Eric's motorcycle make its way up the driveway and Bill and my uncle were on harder stuff than tea. I leapt up anxiously, handing Rose to my aunt, before heading to the front door. Eric was stood on the other side with Elsa Ludwig. He looked as tired as I did as I opened the door, ushering them both into the kitchen.

All eyes looked up at us expectantly as we entered the room. As if sensing the tension, Rose let out a keening wail, cutting through the silence. Elsa tapped me on the shoulder, pointing to the baby and then to herself and I nodded gratefully, glad to have one less thing to worry about. My aunt passed her Rose with reluctance, I knew she wanted to object but was aware that I had already allowed it. Elsa took her over to the fireplace, out of the way, setting her on her knee and cooing to her in German, as my aunt looked on with tacit disapproval.

I slumped into the empty chair next to Bill. Eric remained standing, removing his cap and placing it on the kitchen side. He looked more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him, but he didn't look frightened and that gave me hope.

He took a deep breath. "I've managed to get Copely and Bill on the critical work list," he explained.

"What does that mean exactly?" my uncle asked with a frown.

Eric ran his hand over his hair. "What it means is that, for now at least, you are on the list of people that provide essential services to the island and therefore will not be deported..."

My aunt yelped with joy, wrapping her arms around my uncle, and I basked in the feeling of relief, feeling physically lighter than I did just moments ago.

Bill stared at Eric, his face twisted with resentment. "You said _for now_," he enquired stiffly. "What does that mean exactly?"

Eric sighed. "It means I did what I could but we aren't out of the woods yet."

"You were never _in the woods_, Major," Bill snapped. "It wasn't you that was about to be shipped away from your home and imprisoned."

Eric's face was set in a grim line. "I'm aware of that, Bill."

I put a hand over Bill's, trying to calm him, noticing Eric tense in response. "We're sorry Major, please could you explain a little more?" I asked gently.

Eric shot Bill a look of disdain and then nodded. "I had to argue long and hard for you both to make the list. Normally it's doctors, nurses, anyone else helping the Germans with the war effort... You're certainly on the list for now but it's going to take some work on my part to keep you on it. And I had to make a deal on your behalf..."

Uncle Cope exhaled wearily. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this."

Eric sighed. "I had to pledge that you would turn over one third of anything you grow or produce to the German army. For free."

Copely swore under his breath and Bill got to his feet incensed. "You've got to be bloody kidding me."

Eric shook his head. "I'm sorry. It really was the best I could do. I couldn't really argue you were critical workers otherwise... I know it's not fair. Believe me, I do. But surely it's worth it, to keep out of the camps. To keep Sookie and Rose out of the camps."

I looked around at my family; Bill and Auntie Evie were glaring angrily at Eric, even Uncle Cope was frowning. "Hey everyone," I trilled, trying to get through to them. "The Major has done his best here. It's not ideal but it's a hell of a lot better than it could have been, right?"

Eric nodded. "Four hundred people have been given deportation notices this evening. There'll be another few hundred notices going out tomorrow. Some crops and eggs don't seem so bad in the scheme of things."

"I'm sure it's all the same to you, Major," Evie sneered. "But I already put food in two Nazi mouths, it makes me sick to the stomach that we'll be doing even more for the likes of you."

I gasped in horror at her bitter words, as Bill moved to stand behind her, his presence supporting her vitriol. I looked over at my uncle, who was sitting there, tense and silent, and I felt myself tearing up with anger. How could they all be so ungrateful?

Eric looked at me with a sad smile and nodded ruefully. "I should go," he murmured. "Let you discuss this as a family." He looked over to Elsa and muttered a few words in German to the tiny woman. She nodded, immediately getting up, passing the baby back to me with a gentle smile.

"Thank you," I whispered and she nodded in understanding.

I watched, holding Rose to me, as Eric and Elsa left the kitchen, flinching slightly as I heard the front door slam behind them.

0-0-0-0-0

I lay awake, unable to get comfortable, my mind whirling with a thousand thoughts a minute. I kicked part of the blankets off me, too hot to sleep, trying futilely to ignore Bill's steady snore beside me. Rose had gone down about an hour ago and I knew I only had a certain amount of time to get some sleep before she would be awake again, demanding that I fed her.

But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about Eric and how much I wanted to apologise to him.

Carefully, trying not to disturb the bed, I slid out from under the covers, grabbing my dress that was draped over the chair and slipping from the room. I padded along to the bathroom, freshening up, before dressing myself and tidying my hair.

I opened the mirrored bathroom cabinet, gently taking out my red lipstick. Ignoring the look of accusation staring at me from the mirror, I applied the rouge. _I just needed to talk to him, _I told myself, glaring back piously at my own reflection, rubbing my lips together in defiance before blotting them on a piece of tissue.

Cautiously, I crept down the stairs, silently putting my shoes on at the mat before opening the front door, wincing as it creaked a little. Waiting just a moment to see if anyone had been woken up, I closed the door gently behind me and then ran across the grass, feeling a sense of exhilaration, full of adrenaline, as I made my way towards the farm.

As I approached, I noticed that all the lights were off in the house. I crept towards Uncle Copley's shed, squinting as I looked inside; Eric's bike wasn't there, so I assumed that he hadn't come back yet.

I felt my stomach clench with anxiety as I considered the possibility that he might not come back at all, after the way my aunt had spoken to him. I shook my head, chiding myself for being so dramatic. I knew Eric would come back, he just needed to let off some steam, so I rooted around in the dark for a moment, until I found a flashlight, and settled myself in the doorway to the shed, waiting for him to come home.

I'd been sitting there long enough to get a little stiff, when I saw the lights of Eric's motorcycle float up the drive. Through the darkness I could make out Elsa on the back, her arms around his waist. My chest constricted with jealousy, just for just a second, as I tried to brush aside the sense of ownership I felt towards him.

I stood up as they approached, the beam of the flashlight jostling as I moved. Eric looked astonished to see me as he removed his helmet. He stood there, unmoving, just staring at me as I took a step towards them.

Elsa muttered a few words at him that I couldn't understand, causing him to smile, before giving me a small wave and heading in the direction of the house.

I gave Eric a pointed look before walking into the shed, leaning up against Uncle Cope's tool bench. "What did she say?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

Eric grinned, moving towards me. "It's not that easy to translate."

I looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You mean you don't want me to know."

He nodded, still smiling, taking another step so that he was just inches away. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

I could feel myself blush in the darkness. I pursed my lips, not sure whether to be offended, but decided that wasn't why I was here. Instead I moved position, walking towards the other side of the small shack, needing enough space from Eric to think.

"Look, I came her to apologise," I whispered. "For... for how they all behaved before. I'm so grateful for what you did for us. I know they all are too, it's just that it was big shock... You have to understand."

Eric walked over towards me. "Truthfully Sookie, I don't care what they think." He shrugged. "All I care is that you and Rose are safe. And I knew you would be upset if your uncle... or even Bill... I did it for you. I didn't do it for them."

I nodded, looking around me nervously. "Okay, it's good we cleared that up... Well, I should probably go..."

Eric took a step closer. He tilted his head to one side, his eyes raking over me. "Why are you really here, Sookie?" he asked.

I shuffled backwards, shaking my head. "I-I told you. I wanted to apologise."

Eric smirked. "It couldn't wait until tomorrow?" he teased.

I glared at him. "Don't you dare," I spat, suddenly irked.

Eric reached out for me. "Sookie."

I batted his hand away, partly furious, equally turned on. "I'm not doing this."

Eric took a predatory step towards me, backing me up against the shelves. His eyes never leaving mine. "Sookie," he repeated. I felt his voice vibrate through me, as my resolve began to crumble.

"No, Eric," I tried to insist, slamming my hands into his chest, attempting to push him away but he didn't move. "I said no." I knew that my voice sounded feeble, like I was saying it for effect.

Eric grabbed my wrists firmly. I glanced down at his large hands, my skin feeling as if it were on fire at the contact, and then looked back to Eric.

"I nearly lost you today," he growled. His voice was full of anger, full of passion and despair. "I won't lose you. _Either_ of you. Do you understand?"

I nodded, unable to free myself from the intensity of his gaze. "I do," I whispered.

A heartbeat of understanding passed between us and then Eric pushed against me, forcing my hands above my head as his lips crashed into mine. I moaned into his embrace, kissing him hungrily as we ground our bodies into each other, desperate for more contact.

Finally, Eric pulled back, both of us panting, clamouring for air. Eric leaned in, running the tip of his tongue around the shell of my ear. "Tell me you're mine," he demanded before scraping his teeth across my earlobe.

"Eric," I whimpered, as he moved his mouth to suck on the soft skin behind my ear.

"Tell me," he demanded, punctuating his words with thrusts against me.

"I'm yours, Eric," I whimpered, a tear rolling down my cheeks. He consumed me. There was no way to deny it, I burned for him. I tried to do the right thing but I wanted him so badly. I couldn't stop this now.

I didn't want to.

Eric's eyes met mine, dark with lust and possession, and then he nodded, letting my arms go. He kissed me again, hard and dominating, pinning me up against the shelves with his hard body as I wrapped my arms around his neck. Eric's fingers snaked up my thighs, kneading the skin there, as he began to lift my dress.

"I can't get pregnant again," I rasped, the reality of the situation becoming clear. "We need to be careful."

Eric nodded in understanding, his fingers not stopping their ascent. When he got to my panties, he ignored the button fastening, pulling them down roughly, ripping the silk. I stepped out of them, kicking them to one side and he lifted my skirt again, this time running his hand between my thighs. We both let out a muffled groan as he created a glorious friction against me, his fingers dancing over my clit and dipping inside me. I gasped with pleasure, pulling him closer towards me.

I reached in between us, frantically pulling at the fastening on his pants, freeing him. I gripped Eric's cock, pumping him roughly and eliciting a rapturous moan from him. I groaned as Eric's fingers left me, his hands moving behind me to cup my behind, lifting me up so that my legs wrapped around his waist.

With a fluid stroke of his hips, Eric entered me, impaling me, making me cry out at the feel of him. Our mouths devoured each other in desperate, needy kisses. It was the first time I'd had sex since Rose was born; Eric's thrusts were aggressive, not giving me time to fully adjust, but any apprehension I may have had dissolved instantly. He felt so incredibly good and I clawed at him pulling him closer, further inside me, using the shelves behind me for leverage. His mouth left mine as his hand gripped the front of my dress, pulling it open roughly.

His thumb and finger rolled my nipple as his mouth and teeth attacked my skin sending swells of pleasure straight to my core. My breasts were heavy and tender, the friction skirting on the right side of pleasurable and painful. I moved my hips to meet him with each fluid motion, as he rammed into me again and again, filling me completely.

I felt my head loll back in bliss and Eric's hand grabbed my neck, the pad of his thumb running roughly over my lips. I could feel my orgasm start to spread through me in waves as my insides tightened and clenched around him. I groaned with rapture and Eric pushed his thumb into my mouth, trying to stifle my screams. His grunts became more erratic as he thrust into me, once, twice more, before pulling out, an explosion of wet warmth between us. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit down, breaking Eric's skin, my release shattering through me.

I clung to him, breathless and sated, until he dragged his thumb across by bottom lip and kissed me again, gentler this time. Eventually he lowered me to the floor, my legs shaky underneath me.

We pulled apart slowly, unable to hide our contented smiles. We tidied our clothes, stealing glances at each other in the dark.

"I should get back before Rose wakes up," I whispered.

He nodded, reaching out for me one last time, drawing me into his arms and burying his face into my hair, before whispering that he loved me.

Finally, he let me go, following behind me as I made my way out of the shed, watching me as I made my way across the field into the darkness.

**A/N: *Lights up one of Eric's German cigarettes* So was it good for you? **

**It seems we may have an affair on our hands? Or was it a one time only thing? Are Sookie and Rose out of danger now? You'll have to wait to find out, I'm afraid. **

**As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions...**


	15. Chapter 15 Concealment

**A/N: So sorry guys – I haven't given up on this story I promise! Hope you've all had a fantastic festive break and here's to a very happy 2012 (with a few more Gerrybag updates!) Thank you all so much for your reviews and PMs – they really do mean the world to me and urged me to get my arse in gear with this story.**

**Quick recap: Sookie married Bill to cover the fact that she was pregnant with Eric's child. Bill though, was born on the British mainland and was nearly sent to the camps with Sookie, Rose and Copely but Eric intervened. At the end of the last chapter, Sookie and Eric got 'reacquainted' in Copely's work shed... This chapter picks up where the last one left off.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

_**"Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't going away." - Elvis Presley**_

**Sookie – September 1942**

I tiptoed up the stairs, carefully avoiding those boards that I knew would make the most noise. The whole cottage was a collection of creaks and sighs and usually Rose would sleep through it, but I couldn't take the chance of waking her, or worse Bill.

I went to the bathroom first, drawing back sharply as I glimpsed myself in the mirror. The euphoria I had felt just minutes before was replaced with an overwhelming sense of shame as I studied my face, taking in the red lipstick smothered all over my mouth, my hair tousled, sticking up in random sections where Eric had grabbed at it with his hands.

I pulled the pins out of my hair with rough tugs, discarding them in an untidy pile by the side of the sink, before running a brush through, enjoying the scrape of the bristles on my scalp. Grabbing the cold cream off the side, I rubbed at my face, removing all traces of make-up, leaving it pink and puffy. I slipped out of my rumpled dress and surreptitiously tucked it, and my torn underwear, into the bottom of the washing basket. There wasn't time for a bath, so I grabbed the wash cloth and attempted to clean Eric's smell off of me the best I could.

I felt so awfully base, scrubbing the scent of my lover off of me while my husband and child slept only paces down the hall but, as I ran the cloth over my body, remembering Eric's touch as I did so, I found it hard to hate myself entirely. Eric was right: I was his in every way. In that moment, when he'd first kissed me, everything else had seemed secondary to what I felt for him and, even now, standing cold and naked in the harsh light of the bathroom, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

Rose's wail cut through my thoughts, bringing me abruptly back to reality. I dried my skin quickly, before pulling on my nightgown and making my way hurriedly to the bedroom.

Bill already had Rose out of her cradle and was pacing back and forth, gently bouncing her up and down to sooth her. He looked up at me with a sleepy smile as I entered the bedroom. "I wondered where you were?"

"Bathroom," I explained, trying not to make eye contact. You'd have thought that with all the lying I had done in recent months, this would be easy, but I felt wretched.

Bill nodded absent-mindedly, looking down at Rose with a doting smile. "She doesn't need changing. I think she's just hungry."

"Here." I reached out my arms for my daughter. "Let me take her downstairs and feed her so you can get back to sleep."

He nodded, kissing my forehead before handing her over. I felt myself stiffen at his touch, holding my breath as he ran his hand over my hair, using his thumb to brush against my hairline.

"You've got cold cream in your hair," he chuckled, rubbing it away between his fingers.

I shrunk away from him, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand. "You should try and get some sleep. You'll have to be up soon."

He nodded wearily, and I saw a flash of disappointment cross his features. An overwhelming feeling of guilt rose up inside me again, heavy and nauseous, as I was reminded once more that I would never be all that he wanted me to be, any more than he would ever be what I wanted for myself.

Bill crawled back into bed, pulling the covers up around him. "Night Sookie. I'll see you both in a couple of hours."

I sighed. "Night Bill. Sweet dreams."

0-0-0-0-0

"So I spoke to Isabel this morning," Pam ventured as she poured the tea. "She told me that you and Rose would have been deported with Bill, your uncle too. Fucking Gerries. I can't quite believe it."

"I know. I don't think I've ever been so scared, Pam. I think my brain is still trying to process it." I couldn't suppress a shiver; I knew we were safe, for now, but it still terrified me to think what might have been. "I've heard they sent out another few hundred notices today."

Pam nodded solemnly, pulling her legs up underneath her on the chaise longue. "Isabel said the Newlins were rounded up this morning – apparently Sarah was born in Kent. They've got two daughters... It doesn't bear thinking about."

"I know. And Colonel Flood's been taken too. He served with my dad and Uncle Cope in the army. God, he must be nearly seventy." I looked over at Rose, a wave of emotion washing over me. "I don't know what I would have done if we'd had to go..."

Pam gave me a sad smile. "But you're safe now right? Your Gerry managed to pull some strings?"

I shook my head angrily, reaching for my cup, blowing lightly across the surface before taking a sip. "You wouldn't know it, the way they all carried on yesterday. You'd think Eric was the bloody devil rather than the one that got us out of this mess."

Pam eyed me circumspectly, cocking her head to one side. "Oh my God - you slept with him, didn't you? The Gerry officer."

"I thought we established that already, Pam," I blustered, trying to fake confidence, but I could feel myself going red. "That's how I ended up with Rose remember?"

Pam dropped a cube of sugar into her tea with a splash. How she still had sugar was anyone's guess. "Such a comedian, Sookie. Who knew?"

I took another sip of my tea, not quite making eye contact, ignoring her sarcasm.

"You did," Pam cooed triumphantly. "I knew it. You fucked him again."

"Pam please," I said, glancing over at Rose who was asleep in her pram.

"Oh give me a break, Sookie," Pam muttered, rolling her eyes. "She's three months old. And she's asleep. You did, didn't you?"

I sighed defeatedly and nodded my head, feeling my cheeks burn.

Pam's eyes went wide in response. "Christ."

"I don't know what to say," I whispered. "Part of me feels so ashamed but the other part feels like it's completely right, like it was the wisest decision I've made in ages."

Pam exhaled heavily, running a hand over the pleats of her skirt. "Well I'm not going to insult your intelligence or waste my time by telling you that what you're doing is wrong or that you need to stop. But you have to be really careful Sookie. I mean, it's not just you now—"

I nodded, feeling my stomach sink. "I know."

"And what if you get pregnant again?"

I shook my head stubbornly. "I won't. We were careful."

Pam snorted. "Like last time?" She frowned as she took a sip from her cup and I could almost see her mind working through things. "And what about Bill? I've never been his biggest fan but he definitely loves you—"

"I'm so grateful to him, Pam. I am. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt him, but Eric... I..."

She raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't just his emotional well-being I was enquiring about."

I blushed again, knowing what she was getting at. "We still haven't, um...since the wedding night."

Pam's gaze was unwavering, waiting for me to continue.

"Well, er, at first I managed to put him off, because of the pregnancy... and, well, he's been too polite to push for it since Rose was born."

She tutted, shaking her head. "He's not going to be put off forever Sookie. He may be a gentleman, but he's still a man. I mean it's been months and you did marry him, whatever your motives. And now that the Gerry is back, he's bound to be feeling threatened..."

I nodded, feeling a little queasy at the idea. It wasn't even Bill per se, it was the thought of doing that with anyone other than Eric. On our wedding night I had broken down in a panic, shutting myself in the bathroom and crying for hours as soon as Bill had tried to undress me. He had feigned sleep the next night, but I knew my reaction had upset him terribly and he'd seemed almost relieved when I used the pregnancy as an excuse in the months that followed.

"And if you're going to keep giving it up to Officer von Fucks-a-lot, you need a contingency plan. Even Bill may not stand by you through a second pregnancy, you know."

I sighed, resting my cup and saucer back down on Pam's delicate silver tray. "I know, I'm just not sure I can. I don't know if I could do that to Eric. And, anyway, it would be a total deception on my part."

"Really? Those are your concerns?" Pam asked, her expression full of scepticism. "Because where I'm sitting, you're whole existence these days is one big fat lie. And as for Eric? He's the one who knocked you up and left you to deal with the mess. I don't think he even has the right to an opinion on whether or not you fuck your husband."

"Pam, I know you say all this because you care. But—" I felt my words catch in my throat as I wiped my eye with the back of my hand. "But just once it would be nice for you to sugarcoat it, just a little, you know?"

Pam shrugged. "You want sugar-coating, go to the sweet shop. You're playing a very dangerous game here, Sook. And your Gerry may pull the odd string here and there to help you out but, let's face it, you're the one who will face the consequences if this all goes pear-shaped. You and Rose. You need to be smart. I don't know what else you want me to say."

I sighed, suddenly very tired. "How about changing the subject? Making me laugh?"

Pam looked thoughtful for a moment, taking a final gulp before setting her saucer down next to mine. "I slept with Sam once..."

I coughed, almost choking on my tea. "What?"

"Yeah. We had a few too many whiskeys one night and ended up shagging over one of the bottle crates at the pub." She wrinkled her nose, as if remembering something. "I think Barry might have seen us though. He didn't make eye contact with me for about a month after, so I can only assume that he saw my boobs. Or worse. Probably gave him nightmares."

I snorted loudly, recalling a time when Barry was acting a bit strange around Pam. That would certainly have done it. "I, um, I don't know what to say," I wheezed, laughing, trying to catch my breath.

"You're not getting all innocent on me again, are you?"

I shook my head, biting my lip. "No, it's just that, well, I didn't realise Sam was your, um..."

Pam rolled her eyes. "My type? Oh he's not, I assure you. Still, he was actually pretty good. Girthy."

I held my hand up, trying to stop her, wondering how I would ever be able to look at Sam in the same way again. "Pam, enough please. That really is a detail best left to the bedroom."

It was Pam's turn to snort. "I think in this case, you mean the saloon bar."

I chuckled. "Well, it's my own fault I suppose. I did ask you to change the subject and make me laugh. It wasn't quite what I was expecting but it did the trick."

Pam shrugged. "There you go. What are friends for?"

0-0-0-0-0

I thought about what Pam had said to me all afternoon. I knew that she was looking out for me but she just didn't understand the strength of feeling between Eric and me. That said, it didn't make her completely wrong. I _was_ endangering myself, and Rose, by continuing to see him. If someone found out, we'd both be outcasts and my aunt and uncle would be broken. Eric and I could be as careful as we liked but that would all be worth nothing if I got pregnant again. Pam was also right about Bill: he had developed an almost possessive attachment to Rose and I, and I couldn't be sure how he'd react if he found out that I'd betrayed him with another man.

So that left me two choices: I could stay away from Eric forever or I could take all the precautions necessary to keep our relationship a secret.

Bill didn't tend to drink hard spirits, instead preferring a pint of bitter, but he always kept a bottle of brandy in the cupboard under the sink for any guests. Two nights later I sat in the dark at the kitchen table and drank two large glasses before making my way up to bed.

Bill was standing in front of the long wooden mirror, buttoning up his pyjamas in the warm glow of the lamp light. I took a deep breath, feeling the heat of the brandy swirl in my stomach, before crossing the room towards him.

He glanced up at me. "There you are. Everything alright?"

I nodded, reaching out towards him, my body shaking as I touched his hand, stilling his progress.

"Sookie?" There was a hint of confusion in Bill's tone but his eyes were bright with hope.

I met his gaze, my eyes confirming his unspoken question. Tentatively, he moved his hands away and with trembling fingers I began to unbutton his pyjama shirt. Bill's breathing began to deepen as my hand grazed his chest and I leaned towards him, brushing my lips against his. He leaned into the kiss for just a second and then pulled back, stealing a glimpse at Rose sleeping softly on the far side of the room.

"Sookie? Are you sure that you're ready for this?" he rasped.

I nodded, feeling the sting of emotion at the back of my throat, trying to push away all the doubts and fears that were screaming in my head.

A large smile broke out over Bill's face and then he pulled me to him, kissing me hard before guiding me towards the bed. I tried to concentrate on the moment as he pushed me to sit on the mattress and began to knead my breast. I felt my libido stir a little as I arched into his hand and he kissed my neck, pulling down the strap of my nightgown, running his mouth over my bare skin. Apprehensively, I eyed the bulge tenting Bill's cotton pants, knowing that I was in this now. There was no going back.

I finished unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. Cautiously, I ran my hand up Bill's thigh and palmed him gently through the fabric of his pants. He groaned in response, grabbing the hem of my nightdress and pulling it over my head. His eyes went wide as he realised that I was naked underneath and he made quick work of his pyjamas before laying us both down in the bed and pulling the bed covers up over us.

We lay there on our sides, naked, facing each other. Bill's eyes were dark with passion and longing and I felt my stomach clench with guilt, knowing that I felt so differently from him.

"Bill," I whispered. "The lamp."

He nodded, shifting across the bed and switching off the light on the bedside table.

I lay there in the darkness, my breathing shallow, full of nerves, as Bill made his way back towards me, drawing me into his arms.

"I love you, Sookie," he murmured.

Unable to say it back, unwilling to lie, at least about this, I silenced him with a kiss as he ran his hands over my skin. I felt myself flinch as he switched the focus of his efforts, his hand slipping between my legs. Bill's fingers were rough, clumsy against me, and I could feel his breath, hot and strained against my ear. I tried to block thoughts of Eric from my mind but all I could think about was how it felt when he touched me, how his fingers danced across my flesh, causing me to gasp with pleasure, making me beg for more. I tried to shift my position against Bill's hand, my body feeling small jolts of pleasure as my head clouded with confusion, unsure whether I should be trying to enjoy this or simply enduring it.

Bill began grinding himself against my thigh and I reached down between us, grasping him in my hand, stroking him, encouraging him to get on with it. He let out a muffled moan, pushing me onto my back and positioning himself on top of me.

Mumbling something incomprehensible as he entered me, Bill began to move with shallow thrusts. I closed my eyes tight, clenching my teeth, but images of Eric kept flashing into my mind. I ran my hands down Bill's back, trying to focus on the moment but it all just felt so wrong.

I knew when he was getting closer, his rhythm becoming more and more erratic. Bill pushed my thighs up, driving himself deeper, his mouth on mine, and finally he let out a loud groan, spilling into me with a shudder. His weight was heavy as he collapsed on me for a moment, before peppering kisses on my lips and face. I could feel tears seep down my cheeks onto the pillow.

"That was amazing," he murmured, sweeping his lips across my forehead.

I forced a smile, not sure I could risk speaking yet, and used the heel of my hand to wipe my face.

Bill looked at me, his brow creasing with an anxious frown. "Was that alright for you?"

"Mmm-hmm," I replied, nodding, biting my lip.

Bill's face lit up. "You have made me so happy, Sookie."

I nodded again, glancing over to where Rose was sound asleep. "We should get some sleep," I added. "She'll be up soon, wanting feeding."

He smiled contentedly, pulling me into his arms, and I lie there next to him, exhausted and unsated, feeling totally numb. After a while, I felt Bill's breathing start to level off, his body relaxing into sleep and I slipped out of bed, making my way to the bathroom.

I turned on the taps, drawing myself a hot bath, and stood there for a moment watching the water run, trying not to think about the choice I had just made. Steam began to fill the room and I made my way over to the mirror, wiping away the haze, before examining my reflection. It was the same face as the day before - the same blue eyes, the same mouth, the same freckle on my cheekbone - but I knew I was different now. I was so far away from the person I was before the war that I hardly recognised myself. With a resigned sigh, I stepped into the bath. The water was scalding hot, stinging, turning my skin a dark pink as I sunk down and drew my knees into my chest. Finally, I allowed deep sobs to roll through me, shaking my body with tears, as I considered how far I was willing to go, what sacrifices I would be willing to make, before it was all over.

**Eric - September 1942**

After our encounter in the tool shed, I didn't see Sookie for days. I tried not to be anxious, but in truth I was terrified that I had pushed her too soon and scared her away. I knew that if she had wanted to see me, she would have found a way to do so. I just hoped all she needed was time.

I was sitting at the breakfast table with Copley about a week later. He was still very unhappy about having to provide produce to the army, but he had calmed down somewhat and had been speaking to me a little more each day. We had a long way to go before we were anywhere near to how we had been before the incident with Tray, and I knew, no matter what I had done for him, in all likelihood we'd never be that way again. Still, it was a start.

I looked up from my eggs on hearing the back door open to see Sookie saunter in. She was wearing a deep burgundy dress that swept her curves like condensation on a coke bottle and her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold. She smiled warmly at us both as she entered, the sight of her making me catch my breath.

"Morning Uncle Cope, Morning Major. Where's Auntie Evie?"she trilled.

"Morning Sook," Copley replied, taking a bite out of his toast. "Your aunt's upstairs. She's washing all the net curtains today, so if I were you I'd stay out of her way or she'll end up roping you in."

"Thanks for the advice." Sookie's laugh was genuine and clear; I realised how much I had missed it. "I actually just came over to borrow some buttermilk. I was going to try and make some scones today. Bill got hold of some dried fruit yesterday."

Copely glanced at me, looking unsure whether he should speak. I took a mouthful of my eggs, trying to act oblivious.

"I told him not to do that," he muttered, cryptically.

Sookie shrugged. "Everyone's doing it, Uncle Cope. We're just lucky that we've already got most of the stuff we need. Everything's in such short supply."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right. I just don't like it, that's all... Anyway, there should be some buttermilk in the fridge."

Sookie made her way towards the refrigerator, opening it and peering in. She glanced back at us. "Umm, I can't see any."

Copley got up, clicking his tongue in frustration and wandering over towards Sookie. She took a step back, allowing her uncle to take a look inside. As soon as Copley leaned into the fridge, a small ball of scrunched paper landed on the table in front of me, rolling into my lap. I looked at it and then at Sookie, who was smiling serenely at me. Copley straightened up with a groan and I snatched the paper up, pushing it into my pocket.

"Well I think you're right," he admitted with a sigh. "There's none in there. Speak to Bill. He'll get you some from the dairy."

Sookie smiled, looking very innocent and totally delectable. "I will Uncle Cope. Thanks anyway. I guess I better get back to Rose."

She turned to leave, nodding demurely at me before she went. I immediately excused myself from the table, dropping my plate into the sink with a clatter. Running up to my room, I made sure the door was shut firmly before smoothing out the paper ball on the bed. I couldn't help but smirk, my heart leaping when I read what it said:

_Bill out making deliveries 2 till 5. __Come over._

0-0-0-0-0

I counted the minutes until two o'clock and then made my way over to the cottage. Sookie must have been watching for me out of the sitting room window because she was at the front door before I even had a chance to knock. A huge grin broke out over her face as she opened the door and I knew that my face was a mirror of hers as I stood there, taking her in.

"Eric," she beamed.

"It's good to see you Sookie." It was. It had only been a few hours but it had seemed like an eternity.

"You too," she said, before glancing behind me. "Well, you'd better come in before somebody sees you."

I nodded, stepping over the threshold of the cottage as she held the door open. "Don't worry," I said dryly. "I've spent the entire morning making up cover stories if Bill were home or someone were to see me. They got pretty elaborate by the end. I think we'd be fine."

"Have you indeed?" she chuckled. "Still, probably best not to risk it." She leaned into me as I grazed past her, standing on her tiptoes until her lips met mine. "Mmmm. I've missed you."

I ran my hands over her hair, kissing her deeply before burying my face in her neck, inhaling her scent, reminding myself. I felt my heart clench and release, my skin on fire, from being so near to her. "I was starting to get worried," I murmured, brushing my lips against her ear.

She pulled back, a sad expression darkening her features, just for a moment. "I know," she whispered. "And I'm sorry. I just needed a couple of days to get my thoughts in order, that's all."

"I hoped that was the case." I exhaled slowly, relieved, running my thumb over her lips. "What I mean is, that I understand."

Her expression was instantly easy, contented even. "So..." she ventured coyly. "We have about three hours until Bill gets home."

I grinned, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the staircase. "Then we better make the most of it."

She laughed, pulling on my arm, staying my progress. "I admire your enthusiasm," she giggled. "And believe me, I intend to take full advantage of it, but I thought you might like to spend a little time with your daughter first?"

I took a deep breath, looking around me, my stomach all of a sudden swimming with anticipation. "Rose is here? Where?"

Her eyes twinkled with joy at my reaction. "She's in the kitchen, waiting to play with her father."

I hurried into the kitchen. Rose was sitting in a high chair, contentedly thumping a pair of wooden rings, one red, one blue, against the tray table. She was in a little lemon-coloured dress with a matching cardigan. The blonde hair on her head, still much lighter than mine and Sookie's, was sticking up in tiny tufted curls. She looked like a little beam of sunlight and my chest ached at the sight of her.

I stood there for a moment, until I felt Sookie's hand sweep warmly across my shoulders. "You can pick her up, you know. I'm sure she'd like a cuddle."

"I know. I just wanted to look at her for a moment... It's just that, well, I never thought I would be able to make something so beautiful."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't contain her smile. "I'd like to think that I did a bit of the work myself... Why don't you get her out of her chair and I'll get us something to drink?"

I took a step over to Rose, my large hands under her little arms, pulling her out of the high chair. She gurgled happily as I did so, dropping her toy and reaching for my face as I pulled her to me for a kiss. I sat down by the table, holding her to my chest. Sookie sat down next to me, setting two glasses of water on the table, and reached over to me, placing a tea towel on my shoulder.

"She's just eaten," Sookie explained with a grin. "I thought you might like to save your jacket."

"Good thinking," I agreed, hugging her little body close, gently rubbing her back with my hand. I watched her amusedly as she blew wet bubbles between her lips before biting toothlessly at my shoulder.

"You're good with her," Sookie whispered sadly.

I sighed, looking from her back to Rose. "This was never how it was supposed to be, you know... I always vowed that when I had children of my own, it'd be different."

Sookie reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. "You're nothing like your father Eric. Our circumstances are so, so different. We're all just doing the best we can. For her."

I nodded. "But I'll never get to read her a bedtime story, never get to kiss her better when she cuts her knee. I'll never help her with her homework or walk her down the aisle. He'll do that. He'll be the one she loves. The one she calls her dad."

Sookie closed her eyes. "I don't know what to say."

I shook my head. "You don't have to say anything. We can't change anything. I know that, I do."

She nodded sadly as I cradled Rose in my arms, holding her tight, enjoying the time I had.

"We should put her down for her nap," Sookie whispered after a while.

She got up and I rose to my feet gently, following her up the stairs. Rose was quiet, her eyelids heavy, as I set her down tenderly in her cradle. I looked around the room as Sookie leaned over, removing her tiny cardigan and tucking the blankets securely around her. There was a large dark wood wardrobe to one side of the room, with a matching dressing table and long mirror next to it.

But I couldn't keep my eyes off the bed. The truth of her situation with Bill no longer just haunting my dreams, but stood there in a stark reality of dark mahogany and white linens.

Sookie's gaze followed mine. "Maybe it was a bad idea to bring you up here..."

I shook my head, clearing it, taking a step towards her. "I'm okay. And this is exactly where I want to be."

We looked at each other for just a moment and then she was in my arms, her body pressed flush against mine, her fingers grappling eagerly with the buttons on my uniform. I twisted her around forcibly in my arms so that her back was against my chest, running my hands fervidly over her arms and hips, grazing her breasts. I could feel myself harden at the feel of her against me as I smoothed my fingers over the buttons at the side of her dress, quickly working them open.

Sookie took a step forward, turning back to face me and lifted her dress, tossing it casually onto the floor. Slowly she lifted her chemise, her eyes meeting mine, bright with desire. Finally she was stood there in her underwear and my eyes raked over her eagerly, drinking her in.

"You are so fucking beautiful," I whispered hoarsely.

She winked at me, reaching behind her back to unfasten her bra. "And you, Major, are overdressed."

I couldn't have agreed more and set to work remedying the situation, kicking off my boots and socks and discarding my uniform alongside her dress. When we were both naked, I sat back on the bed, holding out my hand for Sookie to join me. She approached the bed, moving to straddle my lap. I ran my hands over the curve of her back and her behind, pulling her closer, so her skin was touching mine. She felt like creamy silk under my fingers.

"I'm ready, Eric," she whispered, leaning in, extinguishing the last couple of inches between us and running her tongue across my bottom lip. "Please."

I nodded, positioning her and pulling her down on me, around me. We both groaned at the feel of it as she sunk down wrapping her legs around me, stilling for a moment, before she started to move. I felt so wonderful to be like this with her again, taking our time to relish every moan, every caress. Before the war started, I would have thought it impossible to love anyone the way I loved her, to feel utterly complete just because she was in my arms.

I could tell when she was close as her breathing began to pick up and I could feel her clenching me deep inside her. She clawed my back, panting heavily, burying her head against my neck to muffle her screams. I finished soon after, letting go, allowing myself to be consumed by the feel of her.

She kissed me one last time before rising off me, laying down on her back and pulling me down beside her. We lay there quietly, catching our breath, and I ran my hand softly over her, stroking her skin. She shuddered as my fingers circled her nipple before skirting down to make soft shapes across her abdomen.

"I love you," I whispered, nuzzling the soft skin behind her ear.

She shifted around, turning to face me. Her eyes were cloudy with emotion. "Me too. I always will."

0-0-0-0-0

I stretched my arm out sleepily, snuggling up against Sookie's warmth. We'd been unable to keep our hands off each other, making love twice more until we were sated and utterly spent. Sookie murmured something unintelligible, asleep beside me, making me smile. This is how it was always supposed to be: waking up in each other's arms.

Waking up. I froze, icy doubt slowly creeping over me. When had we fallen asleep?

"Sookie," I shook her gently, trying to wake her. "Sookie, you need to wake up. What time is it?"

"Eric," she murmured groggily, opening her eyes, blinking at me. "What's up?"

I sat up, looking around for my watch. I'd taken it off at some point, I couldn't remember when. "I think we fell asleep."

"Shit," she rasped, instantly lucid. She scrambled over to the bedside drawer, pulling out a small alarm clock. "Oh my God. It's half past five," she gasped. "You have to go. Right now."

We both froze as the sound of an engine rumbled close to the house.

I cursed under my breath and grabbed my pants as Sookie ran to the window, peeking out from behind the curtain. "It's Bill," she breathed, her voice husky with despair. "Oh God. What are we going to do?"

I pulled on my boots, my heart thundering in my chest. My thoughts were frantic, running through all the options. "What's the best way out of here?"

"The kitchen," she rasped, grabbing her dressing gown and wrapping it tightly around her. "Out the back door and across the field. Hurry Eric, I'll have to distract him."

I nodded, grabbing the rest of my clothes up in a ball under my arm, taking a final glance towards Rose before making my way towards the stairs.

"I love you," I whispered.

Her face calmed just for a second and she smiled. "I know."

I held her gaze for a heartbeat and then jumped down the stairs, three at a time, heading towards the back door. I thought I could hear Bill at the front of the cottage as I slipped silently out into the small yard at the rear of the house. Taking a short run at it, I managed to launch myself over the back wooden fence, landing in the muddy field on the other side with a squelch.

The cold was biting now against the bare skin of my chest and I pulled my jacket on, leaving it open as I ran hell for leather towards the farmhouse, looking back, just the once, to make sure that nobody had followed me. I could feel my hands shaking, adrenaline pumping furiously, and my boots were chafing without any barrier between the hard leather and the skin of my feet.

I was back in the farmhouse, in the privacy of my own room, before I realised that I wasn't wearing my watch.

**A/N: So I hope you all enjoyed the update (finally!) Either way, I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	16. Chapter 16 Combat Zone

**A/N: You guys are so fabulous! Thank you so much for all your reviews and insight. ****Thank you also for your PMs urging me to continue with this story. I absolutely promise that I will finish it – it's all planned out. For me, it's just a case of finding the time to write the chapters. **

**One thing I have thought about doing is shortening chapters going forward – so you'd only get one POV per chapter but you'll hopefully get them a bit more regularly? Let me know your thoughts.**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

**"Everybody, soon or late, sits down to a banquet of consequences." - Robert Louis Stevenson **

**Sookie - December 1942**

For a while I was terrified at the idea of any more interludes with Eric at the cottage and, in truth, we were both a little on edge. Eric's paranoia was such that he was convinced that he had left his watch in the bedroom that day we had fallen asleep but I hadn't found any trace of it after scouring both the cottage and the back yard more than once. I watched Bill closely after that, scrutinising his behaviour for any outward signs of suspicion, but, even allowing for my own over-analysis, I had to admit there were none. In the end, Eric conceded that he must have lost the damn thing elsewhere and as the weeks passed, we eventually began to relax a little and enjoy the brief time that we got to spend together.

In the world at large, there was still no expectation that the war was anywhere close to coming to an end. Bill and I would listen avidly to the wireless most nights after dinner, picking up the BBC signal when we could. The German offensive along the Russian front showed no signs of abatement and, even though he was on the other side, I included Tray in my prayers each night, hoping he would be kept safe through what seemed to be one of the worst campaigns of the war so far. Closer to home, the British Government had confirmed the existence of Nazi death camps on the continent. Hitler, it seemed, was making good on his promise to annihilate Europe's Jewish population and my concern for Barry had now developed into a deep abiding dread that never really left me.

I hadn't heard any news of Jason in over two years.

Christmas seemed to creep up on us this year. In a way it seemed a little crass to celebrate anything at all when so many people that we knew and cared about were off fighting or worse. Auntie Evie though, was adamant that we were going to do Christmas properly, particularly as it was Rose's first. She started saving rations up in October and I know that she had Bill get her a few things on the black market, something which she conveniently neglected to mention to Uncle Cope. I noticed that she also took particular care finding and dressing the tree this year, as if the quality of her decorations was itself a statement of defiance to the Gerries.

Uncle Cope drove to St. Mary to collect Maxine and Amelia on Christmas Eve and, on Christmas Day, Sam, Pam and Barry came over to join us for lunch. Barry was Jewish sure, but he loved Evie's roast dinner just as much as anyone else, particularly as we were one of the only families in St. Helier that could still manage a turkey with at least some of the trimmings. Even for us, times were hard this year, particularly with so much of the farm's produce being handed over to the occupying army.

Amelia and Barry were a little awkward around each other to start off with but Sam and I managed to keep the conversation flowing as we milled around the kitchen waiting for lunch to be served. Amelia had made her peace with Pam months ago but I cold tell that she was still a little wary about seeing Barry for the first time after all that had happened. For his part, I knew that Barry had been quite upset about not being invited to my wedding and we'd had a number of discussions since about that and his stance generally towards Amelia. He'd agreed that he could keep his feelings to himself when he was around her and that was enough for me. Ultimately, it wasn't my place to tell him what he should or should not think or feel, particularly given my own situation and the stark reality of his.

Uncle Cope ran his hand contentedly over his belly, as I contemplated whether I could fit in that final roast potato. "Well my dear," he said, turning to Evie, "I think you've outdone yourself this year."

Evie beamed proudly as we all concurred with my uncle's compliments. "Yes, well, it's been a little tough but we got there in the end." She managed to avoid referencing Eric's deal with the Germans on our behalf, but the words sat bitterly on her tongue all the same. Not for the first time today, I was grateful that Eric and Elsa were spending the day with the officers.

"Well, in any case, I think that dinner deserves a toast," Sam interjected, tactfully, running a hand through his sandy blond hair.

Copely nodded, getting to his feet. He reached over to Rose, pulling her out of her high chair and pinning her securely against his chest with one arm before lifting his drink. "I'd like to raise a glass to Jason and Hoyt, and all of our boys out there, fighting for us. May they return safely and soon." He gazed down adoringly at Rose who was watching us all, curious but content, and kissed the top of her head. "It's when I look at this little one, with her whole life before her, I realise that it's worth it… if these are the sacrifices we have to make for her freedom."

Bill got to his feet and we all followed as Maxine dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "To Jason, Hoyt and baby Rose."

"To Jason, Hoyt and baby Rose," we all chorused. Rose gave her own little "gah" of acknowledgement and it made my heart constrict a little to think that Jason had not yet even met his niece, knowing how much he would have doted on her if he had.

"And to the King and Queen," Copley said solemnly, lifting his glass again. "May God bless them both and keep them safe."

We all raised our drinks in accord. "To the King and Queen."

"And here's to the end of the bloody war," Amelia added, proffering her glass in an exaggerated toast.

Uncle Cope chuckled despite a horrified glance from my aunt. He bounced my daughter up and down, giving his own an indulgent smile. "Now that I_ will_ drink to... To the end of the bloody war."

0-0-0-0-0

"Well girls," my aunt sighed, slumping in her chair and looking between Amelia and I. "I suppose we better make a start on clearing this lot up."

Sam and Barry had left to go open the pub and, after one too many barbed comments between her and my aunt, Maxine had leapt at the chance to take Rose out in her pram for a stroll down the lane. My uncle was outside with Bill having a smoke; I'd noticed they were both a little tipsy, although given the amount of black market brandy my aunt had put in the Christmas pudding that was hardly a surprise.

I reached over, placing my hand over Evie's. "You stay where you are, Auntie. You've done enough today already."

Pam nodded. "Hear, hear. I'm sure between us, Sookie, Amelia and I can get this sorted in no time."

Auntie Evie smiled gratefully, slipping her foot out of her shoe and flexing her toes, swollen and pink from hours on her feet. "Well you won't get any arguments from me. Thank you girls."

"Bagsie clearing the table then," Amelia chimed in, raising her hand like a school girl.

I looked at Pam and shrugged. "Do you want to wash or dry?"

Pam flashed her hands at me, exhibiting glossy fingernails painted in a deep red. "I just did these this morning."

"Oh well, you'd better dry then," I said wryly, making my way over to the sink and chucking a tea towel at her.

I turned on the taps to fill the sink, as Amelia began to bring things over. When it was at the right level, I turned off the water and added the first lot of dishes along with some hot water from the kettle.

"It's been a nice day today," Pam murmured. She glanced over at Amelia and then back at me, giving me a half smile.

I nodded contentedly, relieved that everything had gone as well as it had. "It has."

We stood there in comfortable silence for a while as I scrubbed and rinsed the plates and glasses and handed them to Pam for drying. Amelia approached, dumping dirty serving dishes on the side with a clatter before heading back to the table.

"So I saw in the Evening News that the Resistance has stepped up their attacks over the last couple of days," I started, once Amelia was out of ear shot.

Pam's eyes narrowed for just a second as she took a wet plate from the draining board. "I saw that too," she replied carefully.

I paused, examining her stony expression with apprehension. "You're not involved in that any more are you?"

She held her hand out for the next item, not looking at me. "No, I'm not."

"You better not be," I pressed, hardening my gaze as I passed her a large serving bowl.

"I'm not a child, Sookie," she whispered crossly. "Unlike someone else I don't care to mention, I don't tend to do stupid twice…"

I bristled at her comment but chose to ignore it as she picked up a stack of clean, dry dishes, carrying them over to Evie's dresser and putting them away carefully.

"Anyway," she added, making her way back to the sink, one eye on Amelia busying herself across the kitchen. "They probably only let me go, so I would lead them to the others. I'm not going to do that."

"What makes you say that?" I asked, frowning with concern.

She sighed, placing her tea towel down and leaning up against the draining board, her back to the kitchen window. "I feel like I'm being watched sometimes and I know it's them. I mean, who else would it be? Although, if I'm honest, it could just as easily be a figment of my imagination. I'm a lot more skittish than I used to be…"

I could feel my lunch spin, my stomach churning with anxiety for her. "I didn't know," I said quietly.

She snorted bitterly. "Why would you? Even I don't know for sure."

"And what about Barry?"

Pam shrugged. "Honestly… I don't know and I don't ask. I've no idea who's in and who's out these days. That way, I couldn't be forced to tell anyone if they decide that they made a mistake letting me go... But my guess would be that he is. Sam still sneaks off from the pub at odd times and Barry tends to go with him. You can't really blame him for wanting to do something, can you?"

I shook my head sadly. "No. I can't. But it doesn't stop me being scared for him. And for you."

Pam exhaled heavily. "I can look after myself and frankly, being hung in the town square is almost the least of Barry's worries these days."

I met her gaze. "I know."

Amelia bounced over carrying what was left of the Christmas pudding. "What are you two nattering about so intently?"

"Childbirth," Pam replied immediately, not missing a beat.

Amelia scrunched up her nose. "Eew. Well can we change the subject then?"

I smiled, glad for the interruption. "Absolutely."

0-0-0-0-0

I put down Rose for the night in Amelia's room and came down to join the adults playing charades by the fire. We'd been stuck on Uncle Cope's book clue for what seemed like days when Eric and Elsa walked into the kitchen, causing the merry commotion in the room to plummet into immediate and uncomfortable silence.

"Happy Christmas Northman," Amelia called out, cutting the tension just as Elsa mumbled something in German at Eric, clearly uncomfortable. I suspected she was asking why they couldn't have just gone straight upstairs, a sentiment I was starting to share.

"Who's your friend?" Amelia added, eyeing the Fraulein curiously.

Eric smiled at my cousin. "Hello Amelia. Happy Christmas to you. This is my colleague Elsa, Nurse Elsa Ludwig."

Elsa nodded politely, knowing she was being introduced, as the room fell silent again, all eyes on our German intruders. I stole a glance at Bill but his gaze was focused resolutely on Eric.

"Well, we should probably say goodnight—" Eric began tentatively, taking a step rearwards towards the hallway.

"Nonsense," Amelia chided and I eyed her warily. "It is Christmas after all. And the way I understand it, we wouldn't all be spending it together if it wasn't for you. If that doesn't deserve a drink, I don't know what does."

"Um, that's very kind of you Amelia…" Eric started.

"Is that the baby I can hear?" Evie asked flintily, ignoring her daughter and at the same time making her views known on Amelia's offer.

Inured by now to Evie's rudeness, I concentrated on any noise coming from upstairs, just in case. "I can't hear anything," I sighed. "But it's time I checked on her in any case."

Bill stood up, kissing the top of my head. "Stay there, sweetheart. I can go."

Currently looking anywhere but in his direction, I sensed, rather than saw, Eric stiffen at the intimacy of Bill's response. I felt my skin flush, hoping to God that no-one else had noticed, hoping that Bill hadn't noticed me recoil at his too-open affection. "No I'll go," I said quietly, grateful for something that got me out of the kitchen. "She's probably hungry anyway."

"We've got some of those mashed veggies left over for her," Evie suggested. "I can warm them up and add a little gravy?"

I nodded. "I'll see how she is but she may just go back to sleep after some milk."

Evie sighed in acceptance and I made my way out of the kitchen, smiling nervously at Elsa as I did so. I couldn't hear Rose as I made my way up the stairs and, on reaching Amelia's room, found her sound asleep on her front, curled around the pink woollen rabbit that Pam had bought her when she was born. I stood there watching my daughter for a moment, comforted by the regular thrum of her breathing, wondering if the awkward gathering downstairs had dispersed yet. I shook my head exasperatedly: sometimes I didn't know what went through Amelia's mind.

"She wasn't hungry after all," Eric murmured behind me.

My hand flew to my chest in shock; I hadn't heard him approach. "Damn it Eric," I hissed under my breath. "You made me jump."

He chuckled quietly. "Sorry," he whispered, glancing sheepishly over at Rose who didn't even stir.

I couldn't help but smile. "It's fine," I whispered. "She's fine… Look I'm sorry about downstairs…"

Eric held up a hand to interrupt me. "Don't worry. Els and I managed to politely decline Amelia's proposition and get off to bed but, well, um, first I wanted to give you this." Eric handed me a small, soft package wrapped in dark green paper. "It's for Rose. For her first Christmas."

I looked at him and then at the gift and grinned, my heart fluttering wildly at the gesture. "You didn't have to do—"

Eric shook his head, a remorseful smile on his face. "Yes. Yes, I did."

I nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you. It was a lovely thought."

I pulled at the string tied around the package and the thick paper opened slowly like a flower in bloom. Inside there was a little princess coat in a beautiful, deep cranberry red with wooden toggle buttons and a tiny matching hood.

"Eric," I murmured, running my fingers over the soft wool before holding it up in front of me, assessing the size. "It's so lovely."

Eric's mouth tucked up into a tentative smile, instantly relieved. "I think it should fit. I got my mother to send it over from Germany. I didn't tell her why, so God knows what she thinks." He grinned suddenly. "Probably something not too far from the truth, come to think of it. But in any case, she was too polite to ask."

I couldn't help but smile at that and then met his gaze. His expression had taken on a faraway look.

"How is your mother, Eric?" I asked gently.

He sighed, glancing briefly over at Rose before answering. "Not good," he replied, his voice catching. "I don't er... I don't think she has much longer."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching out to him and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. "Will you go back to see her?" I asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. The thought of Eric leaving again made me feel nauseous.

He shook his head determinedly, looking down at my hand with a gentle smile. "No. I won't leave here."

I nodded, relieved, placing Rose's coat carefully at the end of her cradle before backing quietly out of the room. Eric took one last look at her before closing the door behind us.

"So..." Eric whispered playfully, giving me a sideways glance as we padded quietly along the hallway, his fingers skimmed lightly over my lower back. "What have you got me for Christmas?"

I smiled knowingly, marveling at how mercurial he could be sometimes, going from melancholy to flirtatious in a moment. "We decided no presents, remember?" We had. It was too risky and, cranberry coats notwithstanding, there was nothing to buy anyway.

He shook his head, feigning ignorance. "We did? I must not have been paying attention."

I rolled my eyes. "If you weren't paying attention, I'm not sure that you deserve anything anyway."

He leaned in to me as we approached his room, his hand smoothing over my behind and tweaking my garter belt through my thick wool skirt. "Maybe you should just flash me your Christmas stockings instead," he murmured, his cool breath on my ear making my stomach flip. "That would make my Christmas... and my New Year too."

I laughed, pushing him away gently, not meaning it at all. "In your dreams, Major."

He smirked. "You certainly will be."

I hovered outside the door for a second as he opened it, leaving it ajar and turning back to me. "Merry Christmas Eric," I whispered.

His expression was full of tenderness as his fingers reached out to brush mine, just for a second, before he backed into his room. "Merry Christmas Sookie... Good night."

I made my way slowly down the stairs, taking a moment to myself to bask in the warm afterglow of our encounter. Charades seemed to be over for good but everyone was still in the kitchen. Bill was sat by the hearth talking with Pam, of all people. He seemed animated about something but their voices were hushed, unintelligible against the melodic crackle of the wireless that was urging us to "keep the home fires burning". My uncle and aunt were at the table playing bridge with Amelia and Maxine. Maxine seemed to be clearing up, which I knew would not go down well with Evie.

Bill looked up at me as I approached.

"Everything okay?" he asked, forcing a smile. People often talk about a smile not reaching someone's eyes and it was something that I had really noticed since I married Bill. His mouth would move, baring his teeth through thin lips, but there was no light at all in his expression. He did this now and I glanced quizzically at Pam, wondering what they had been discussing.

If she noticed my confusion, she didn't show it, so I turned back to my husband. "Rose is fine," I confirmed. "She was a bit restless but I managed to get her back to sleep."

Bill nodded distractedly. "Good. That's good."

"Should we go home?" I asked. "Amelia has offered to have Rose all night. I've left some milk for her, so she should be good till about eight tomorrow morning."

His expression brightened, for real this time, and I knew immediately that he was thinking about sex.

"I'm really tired," I added, not so subtly. It had occurred to me when Amelia had offered to take Rose that Bill would see this as an opportunity for us to be alone. After that first time together, Bill began to broach the subject of sex more frequently. Using Rose as an excuse, or with talk of headaches and menstrual cramps, I managed to put him off as often as possible but I knew him well enough to recognise that he had taken my initial capitulation as some kind of sign, each subsequent encounter adding to the illusion he had spun himself. "It will be nice to have a night of uninterrupted sleep for once, won't it?"

"I suppose it will," Bill agreed, sighing good-naturedly as he made to get up. "Well then Mrs. Compton, let's go home."

**Eric – January 1943**

That winter was a bitter one across Europe. I knew that the reports back home were that we were making progress on the Russian front but the truth was that our tanks and artillery froze up in the harsh Russian conditions, while frostbite was killing and maiming thousands of inadequately clothed German soldiers. My father informed me that the Fuhrer was absolute in his refusal to retreat and I could only imagine that capture must have seemed a better option to many of my fellow soldiers than a long winter in such conditions. That said, the patchy reports we received from the Soviet POW camps were that many of those captured were dying of exposure, starvation and overwork during forced labour.

I thought of Tray often in those months, hoping to God that he was safe and enduring it the best he could. I constantly felt like a fraud, pretending to be rather than actually _being_ a soldier. I knew I should have been out there with Tray and more than once considered going to Andre to demand that I be transferred to the action, anywhere but here. But of course I always backed down at the last minute: as long as Sookie and Rose were in St. Helier, I knew I'd never leave through choice, and there was no point pretending otherwise, even to myself.

Over a thousand Jersey residents had now been deported to camps on the continent and I was reliably informed that we were due to ship more out within the month. A number of our supply routes had been disrupted by Allied ships in recent months so the availability of homegrown produce was becoming more important, particularly as the number of Wehrmacht on the island was increasing exponentially. I wasn't looking forward to the prospect of telling Copley that he might have to increase his levy to the army this Spring but, either way, Andre seemed satisfied with the arrangement put in place with the Broadway Farm. I hoped it meant that Sookie and Rose were safe, at least for the time being, and that meant I wasn't going anywhere.

I knocked on the door to Andre's office a week into the New Year after being summoned, firmly yet respectfully, by Private Schmidt. As usual, Schmidt imparted no information as to why my presence was required. I'd been contemplating all the possibilities on the walk over from the docks and one look at Andre's face as I walked through the door confirmed the worst of my suspicions.

"She's dead," I said aloud, to no one in particular. My voice sounded hoarse, as bitterness began to pool under my tongue, hot against the back of my throat.

"Sit down Eric," Andre said gently, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk as Schmidt closed the door softly behind me. He poured me a drink, _his good whisky_ I thought fleetingly, before topping up his own crystal tumbler. "Here."

"She's dead?" I asked, more of a question this time, as I sat down, taking my hat off and placing it on the floor beside me. I went to reach for my glass but my hand was shaking; I snatched it back, flexing the fingers and curling them into a fist on my lap.

Andre nodded. "She died yesterday morning." He placed my glass on top of a crinkled map, folded on the desk in front of me. "I'm deeply sorry Eric. Your mother was a special woman and I respected her very much."

I ran my hands over my face, my eyes blurring with tears that I blinked away.

"She died in her sleep," Andre's voice continued, explaining the circumstances of her death but I wasn't listening. I didn't want to hear details. She was gone; it didn't matter how.

My mind was foggy and heavy with sudden memories, my thoughts drifting to how beautiful she'd been when I was a child: so full of life, so luminous. She had withered away to almost nothing over the past few years: no appetite, no energy to walk or even talk much, but her letters to me had never stopped. She'd always loved me, warmly and unconditionally. And now that was gone. I was sure there were people who would argue that she was in a better place, but I didn't really believe that. She was just gone.

"…Your father has made arrangements for you to go back for the funeral."

"What?" I stammered, suddenly looking up. "What? No."

Andre frowned at me. "Eric. It's your mother's funeral. You'll want to pay your respects and your father will need you there."

"No," I said, more firmly this time.

"Why on earth not?" Andre demanded, eyeing me dubiously as he took a swig of his whisky.

I knew exactly why not. It was something that had been on my mind for a while and why I hadn't gone back again when she was sick. My father would use the opportunity to get me home and shortly after the funeral there would be some task required of me that my skills would be uniquely suitable for, perhaps even a promotion sanctioned by the Fuhrer himself, and I'd never again leave Berlin. I was all he had now and my father was a stubborn, possessive man.

I took a slow sip of whisky, gripping the glass tightly to calm any residual tremors. "Captain Fuhrmann's father died before Christmas. His family is from outside Frankfurt I think, but he didn't get leave to attend the funeral... I understand that Private Ehrlich has lost two brothers in combat and his wife was also killed in an Allied air-raid. He was denied leave… The list goes on."

Andre eyed me circumspectly. "Your point being?"

"My point is that I am unwilling to take advantage of benefits provided to me that cannot also be provided to my men." It was true enough, even if it did not reflect my main motivation.

"We're at war, Major, and trying to hold an important strategic position at that." Andre shook his head in disbelief. "You can't possibly expect me to sanction a jaunt back to the Fatherland for every soldier who has lost someone?"

I sighed, running a hand over my hair. I suddenly felt very tired indeed. "No, of course not. That's not it… But if I am to lead these men, to retain their respect, it must be the same for all of us."

Andre rolled his eyes contemptuously. "You are not the same Eric. Ehrlich's father does not have the ear of the Fuhrer and I doubt very much I'd be having this conversation with him if he did."

"I've made my decision all the same," I said, my tone curt, cutting the discussions short and making to get up. "Thank you for your kind words about my mother, Colonel. But if that's all, I should really go and write to my father to send my condolences."

Andre sighed, leaning back in his chair resignedly. "Fine, fine. The offer remains open if you change your mind."

I shook my head, replacing my hat and saluting. "I won't."

I stepped into the hallway outside Andre's office. Elsa was crouched on the floor under the large window, and she looked up apprehensively as I approached.

"I'm sorry Eric," she whispered.

I nodded, the words I was looking for sticking in my throat. Two soldiers walked past in the corridor and I bit my lip, hard, to stop myself from breaking down.

Elsa noticed my efforts: her eyes met mine and were full of sympathy, which somehow made it worse. "How about we get some fresh air?" she suggested.

I said nothing but followed her out to a small open courtyard at the back of building. It was fairly secluded with unkempt rose bushes growing in a prickly, leafless tangle. Elsa gestured to a small wooden bench. It had been raining and the wood was slightly damp but we both sat down anyway.

"How did you know?" I asked, still feeling a little dazed.

"Private Schmidt came and found me," she explained with a shrug. "I think Paulinz asked him to."

I nodded distractedly.

"I really am sorry Eric," she said again.

"Thank you," I rasped, the words choking me on the way out. I could feel hot tears burn my eyes as my body began to shake, the initial shock of the news finally transforming into grief. Elsa leaned into me, her tiny arms wrapping warmly, but awkwardly, around my waist and I shuddered against her in silent sobs.

I pulled back after a moment, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my uniform. "I'm sorry Els," I muttered. I could feel myself blushing with embarrassment. "You shouldn't have to see that."

She rolled her eyes. "Why not? Because you're a man? Don't be ridiculous Eric. I'm your friend and your mother just died."

I looked down at the weathered cobbles at my feet, gleaming slick and wet, and pushed at a loose one absent-mindedly with my boot. "I can't believe she's gone." I shook my head incredulously. "I've been expecting it for months but I can't… It just won't sink in that I won't see her again."

Elsa gave me a sad smile, allowing me to continue.

"The first thing I did when I saw Andre's face was think of Rose. I mean it feels like someone just tore my insides out but at least I had all those years with my mother…" I took a deep breath, feeling myself begin to tremble again: with shock, with grief, I wasn't sure which.

Elsa said nothing but grabbed my hand. We sat there in silence for a while, until I had lost track of time, listening to the rain water drip from the town hall roof into the gutter below. The wind was bitter against my face and hands and I realised suddenly that Elsa must be freezing.

"Come on," I said, getting up and stretching out my cold, stiff limbs. "Let's go get a drink."

0-0-0-0-0

Ludwig and I were on our eighth, or possibly ninth, beer; it was getting to the point where I'd given up counting. For someone so tiny, Elsa could drink like a fish but I'd noticed her trips to the bathroom had increased in frequency, a sign that it was starting to get to her. I could usually hold my drink as well but after the events of the day, I could feel myself starting to mellow and welcomed the oblivion that came with total inebriation.

The Lebrecht twins had joined us about two hours ago, along with the recently-promoted Sergeant Mott. He'd bought a round of drinks as soon as he arrived to ingratiate himself, so despite an eye roll from Elsa, I hadn't shooed him away. I suspected we were each of us going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow.

Sigebert walked over to our table, five fresh bottles enveloped by his huge hands. "This is the last of it," he announced in slightly slurred, yet Patrician, German. "They're cutting us off."

I nodded resignedly, eyeing the bottom of my penultimate bottle. "Maybe it's for the best."

Mott shook his head emphatically. "Nonsense. None of us have anything but light duties tomorrow. Anyway I feel like a whiskey. They only have beer here."

"Well, we don't have any whiskey," Elsa pointed out, a slight hint of contempt in her tone. "Maybe you should go raid the Colonel's office."

Mott glared at her. "No. We go where the locals go. It's only nine, it'll still be open."

There was a murmur of consternation among our little group. I was drunk, yes, but sober enough to recognize that this was a fairly radical proposal. We had been told in not-so-subtle words that fraternization with the locals was forbidden. This meant that, although not expressly prohibited, German soldiers did not frequent the local bars. We had our own places set up when we arrived on the island and, save for a few opportunistic Islanders, the locals mainly kept away.

"Come on," Mott urged, as the Lebrechts got to their feet each downing their final beer in one long gulp.

I looked at Elsa questioningly and she shook her head. "I think we should go home."

The truth was I wasn't ready to go home yet. I wanted company, even as dire as it was. I needed a distraction to take my mind away from my grief, and I wasn't going to get that at the Broadways or in such close proximity to Sookie and Rose's 'family' home.

"Come on Els," I pressed.

"You're on your own then buddy," she muttered, her lips pulled tightly into a grim smile. "I can barely walk. I'm going to feel like shit tomorrow as it is."

"Come on," Mott pushed, as I looked from him to the little nurse and back again.

"Fine," I sighed, getting up. "Where are we going anyway?"

0-0-0-0-0

Twenty minutes later we were standing outside of the Dog & Bottle. Sam's pub, I noted with consternation, feeling immediately grateful that Sookie didn't work there any more.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," I said warily, my previous exuberance dampened somewhat by the cold night air. "I think maybe we should just call it a night?"

"No," Mott snapped, heading doggedly for the front door. "We're here now and I want a drink."

If the January weather had cleared my head, the deafening silence as we walked into the saloon bar was the final kick I needed to push me into full-on sobriety. All eyes were on us as we approached Sam, standing rigidly behind the bar, his arms folded aggressively in front of him. Pam was stood next to him; her expression was blank but she looked pale, blanched, as if she was going to throw up.

I felt unease unfurl in my stomach like thick tentacles as I began to realize what this must look like from the other side. No wonder I couldn't see Barry anywhere. "Sergeant, I think we definitely should—" I started.

"Why are you here?" Sam asked. His voice was clear and unyielding, and I felt my back straighten in response.

Mott looked at me to translate and nodded in comprehension when I did. "Whiskey," he said with a heavy accent, gesturing with four fingers between us soldiers and back to the bar.

Sam shook his head firmly. "No. No whiskey or anything else for that matter. This is my pub and we don't serve Nazis in here."

Mott bristled, not understanding the exact words but very much grasping the context. I could feel the tension spread through the bar, as people avoided eye contact with us, looking anywhere but at our current altercation. My sergeant took another step towards the bar, the Lebrechts flanking him.

"Whiskey," he demanded, pulling some money out of his pocket and waving it aggressively in Sam's direction.

"No," Sam repeated, equally firmly, as a number of men got to their feet and taking a step towards us, at once both protective and aggressive. I glanced at their faces, startled by the hatred permeating from their expressions, and noticed Bill, on his feet, just to my left. He glared at me, his eyes full of dark loathing, and I knew there was nothing that he'd like more than for this fight to escalate while he had the advantage of numbers.

Sam turned to me, his eyes narrowing. "You need to translate to your friend here that you aren't welcome in this establishment. Never will be, as long as there is breath in my body. Is that clear?"

I nodded, lifting my hands up in supplication. "We are not here to start trouble," I assured him, glancing at my fellow soldiers to keep them in check. "We just wanted a drink."

"He said you're not welcome here," Bill hissed, lunging towards me, his fingers gripping tightly around my arm before shoving me towards the door.

"Fuck you, Compton," I hissed, seeing red and charging towards him. Both of my palms connected with his chest and I forced him back, causing him to lose his balance and collide with a table behind him.

"Major Northman." Pam's voice cut through the shrieks as people shrunk out of the way, trying to avoid the knocked over drinks and glass.

I glanced up at her as Bill scrambled back to his feet, beer soaking into the right side of his shirt.

"Please… just go will you," she implored, her voice wavering.

I looked at her, meeting her eyes, and nodded in acquiescence. "We'll go." I turned towards the door, muttering a command at Mott and the others to follow me.

I was half way across the car park when I heard him shouting my name. We all stopped, the others having caught up with me, and turned to face Bill striding out of the Dog & Bottle. The door closed swiftly behind him, blocking the light from the pub and covering him in shadow, but I could feel his eyes on me in the darkness.

"Northman," he growled again. "You've got a damn nerve coming here."

I sighed. I really wasn't in the mood for this today. Suddenly my bed at the Broadway Farm couldn't have been more appealing and I cursed Elsa for not forcing me home.

"Compton," I said wearily, looking from him to my fellow soldiers. Sigebert in particular was eyeing Bill aggressively, no doubt equal parts beer and embarrassment from the scene inside fuelling his anger. I noticed with alarm that Mott's hand was resting on the Luger pistol at his hip. I took a step backwards, towards Mott, trying to block his view of Bill. "Look we're leaving. There really isn't anything else to say. Good night Bill."

"You think she's yours but she's not," Bill spat, taking a step towards me and shaking his fist erratically. I realised suddenly that it might not just be the German side of this affray that had had too much to drink tonight. "She'll never be yours again," he sneered.

I glanced nervously at Wybert. His English was slightly better than the others but he didn't seem to have picked up on Bill's insinuation.

"Shut your bloody mouth, Bill," I hissed, glowering at him. "Do you want someone to hear?"

He stepped into the light; I could see his face, dark and twisted with hatred. "If you had just let us be," he said, almost to himself. "I know I could make her happy. Make them both happy."

I looked behind him, suddenly terrified. No one had come out of the pub door yet but it was only a matter of time. Bill evidently wasn't thinking clearly; I had to get him out of here before somebody heard him rambling on.

"Listen Bill," I said calmly, as if trying to soothe a child. "You've got it all wrong. She's yours. She picked you."

Bill frowned and then his eyes fixed on me, cold and glassy. "No," he said coolly. "No. I know… I _know_."

"Know what?" I asked, quietly.

Bill reached inside his coat and the next moments were a blur.

I know that I heard Mott's voice shouting at me from behind. "Eric! Das Messer!" he yelled. "Eric! Knife!"

Bill looked up blankly, my eyes meeting his for a heartbeat, as a shot rang out through the car park, the crack of the pistol cutting through the darkness. I ducked on instinct, covering my head, and looking frantically around me to see where it had come from. I blanched as I took in the sight of Mott standing tall and straight behind me, his arm extending calmly as his gun smoked in the cold night air.

"What the fuck?" I shrieked at him in German, before realization hit me and I twisted frantically to face Bill.

I gasped as he staggered towards me, one hand still in his coat as his spare hand clasped over his stomach. Another step forward and then his legs seemed to give way beneath him as he crumpled to the floor, his face contorted with agony. I rushed forward, grabbing him across the shoulders, trying to prop him up.

"Get some help," I yelled at Wybert, applying my hand to Bill's abdomen, which was already warm and wet with blood. Suddenly I heard a scream and glanced up at the pub door. A woman with red hair that I recognized from town was staring at Bill and I, face aghast, as other patrons made their way outside to investigate the commotion.

I looked down at Bill, pressing his stomach hard in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "Don't you dare die on me," I demanded through gritted teeth.

"Get your bloody hands off of him." Sam's voice was full of disdain as he approached, grasping Bill and pulling him roughly away from me before cradling the wounded man in his arms.

Without Bill to anchor me, I fell back onto my behind, my hands breaking my fall on the cold ground. I could feel my vision become hazy, my pulse racing, as the scene around me began to descend into panic. The redhead screamed again.

"You need to calm down Arlene... Pam," Sam shouted, looking around to find his shell-shocked friend watching from the sidelines. "Run and get Doctor Millet. And be quick about it."

"Come Eric," I felt Sigebert's hand press into my shoulder, pulling me up and away. "We need to get out of here."

At the same time Bill reached out towards me, his hand bloodied, imploring me to come closer. I shrugged away from Sigebert and leaned towards him as Sam barked further instructions to those around him.

"I know," Bill rasped weakly. He reached back inside his coat before placing something metallic in my hand, dirty with blood, and closing my fingers around it.

I felt my stomach turn as I opened my hand. Not a knife at all. A watch.

An icy chill danced across the skin as I turned it over in my palm to read the engraving I already knew was there.

_Happy 21__st__ Birthday my darling Eric, All my love, Mother x_

**A/N: So hands up if you're hoping Bill is dead? Yep – thought so. Poor Bill!**

**I'll let you know as soon as I can. In the meantime, I'd really love to hear your thoughts...**


	17. Chapter 17 Casualties of war

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all your comments and continued support for this story. It had been a while - I forgot how wonderful if was to receive your reviews! **

**So I don't think there was a general consensus one way or the other on the shorter chapters/longer chapters issue so I think I'll just keep with the structure we have and try not to be quite so lax in updating! I should warn you, this chapter is probably the angstiest yet! Do I say that every chapter?**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters.**

"**There is a time for departure even when there's no certain place to go." – Tennessee Williams **

**Sookie - January 1943**

The soft music from the wireless was beginning to lull me to sleep on the couch when the sound of knocking jolted me into consciousness.

"Sookie! Sookie it's me." Uncle Cope's voice was muffled but audible on the other side of the sitting room window. "Open up."

I rubbed my eyes and blinked twice, clearing my vision, as I shuffled wearily towards the front door. "Hold on, I'm coming," I whisper-shouted, desperate not to wake Rose after it had taken so long to get her to sleep.

My uncle was stood on the doorstep gripping his hat in his hands, dark lines of anxiety sullying his usually jovial expression. Auntie Evie was standing next to him, her face swollen and splotchy with tears. She had her hair pinned up in the rollers she wore to bed and was wearing her winter coat and Wellington boots over her nightgown; I could see that, even though he was wearing pants and a sweater under his overcoat, my uncle had also dressed in a hurry.

"Oh God," I whispered. The words were thick on my tongue as I felt my insides plummet with apprehension. "What is it?"

Uncle Cope's eyes were full of pity as he met my gaze. "Sookie, it's Bill. Evie will stay here to look after Rose. You need to come with me to the hospital."

0-0-0-0-0

I rushed along the corridor, the click-clack of my heels deafening in the silence. Sam and Pam got to their feet as I approached, my uncle just behind me.

I gasped as I took in Sam's appearance. He'd clearly washed his face and hands since arriving at the hospital but blood was crusted thickly all over his clothes. Bill's blood - already drying into a metallic brown colour against the wool of Sam's sweater vest and his once white shirt.

"Sookie," he said, as Pam pulled me into her arms, hugging me close. "I'm so sorry."

"How's he doing?" I asked, tears beginning to cascade down my cheeks. I'd managed to hold it together on the drive to the hospital, but seeing Sam, being in the hospital, suddenly brought home just how serious this all was.

Sam sighed, taking my hand and squeezing it tight. "They've taken him into surgery. I'll go find the doctor to come talk to you, he'll be able to tell you more..."

I looked to Pam, knowing that if she knew anything more, she would tell me straight. She shook her head mournfully as my eyes caught hers. "They think the bullet may have caused quite a bit of internal damage. They're trying to stem the bleeding and repair his stomach but Sook... it's not looking good."

"I'll go find a doctor, and then we'll know more," Uncle Cope offered gently. He patted Sam gratefully on the shoulder. "We can't thank you enough for all you've done Sam. You too Pam."

Sam nodded grimly, leading me to sit down on a small wooden bench as my uncle headed into the ward. I leaned into Pam as she squeezed in beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulders.

"I still can't believe he's been shot," I rasped. "He… he can't die."

Pam's rubbed her hand gently over my arm, trying to soothe me. "Listen, we don't know what is going to happen until he's out of surgery. He lost a lot of blood but he's young and he's strong as an ox. If anyone can fight this Sookie..."

I nodded, not really taking any comfort from her words. I felt sick, absolutely sodden with nausea, but at the same time dazed, slightly removed from the situation. "Tell me what happened," I whispered.

I felt Pam stiffen slightly beside me as Sam crouched down at my feet. He looked up at me, his expression steeped in concern.

"How much did Cope tell you?" His tone was measured, like he was trying to control his rage.

I shook my head. "Not much. Only that Bill had been shot by one of the Nazi soldiers and that he was critical." I felt my eyes well up again. "I just can't understand why… Bill would never do anything to provoke them…"

"I know, I know... Look, four of them came into the pub, wanting to buy some drinks." Sam rubbed his face, expelling an angry breath as he sat back onto the tiled floor, crossing his legs underneath him. "I don't know, maybe I should have served them... but I was just so furious they were there. And they were already drunk, all riled up. I just saw red and threw them out but not before Bill had a shoving match with the one that lives with you at the farm."

For a moment I think I forgot to breathe, my eyesight clouded over and I could feel Pam clenching my upper arms, holding me upright.

"What, er…" I stuttered. "_Eric?_" I looked at P am, confused. I felt vomit rise, sweet and acidic at the back of my throat and tried to swallow it down. "Major Northman was there?"

She nodded solemnly, her expression at once both full of sympathy and urging me to keep it together. I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble and caught it with my teeth, breathing slowly and deliberately through my nose.

"…He pushed Bill into a table, knocking him off his feet and then he left with the other Gerries. Pam got them to leave. We didn't see Bill follow them. I guess we were all calming down ourselves," Sam continued, looking up to Pam for support.

She nodded. "I hadn't even realised he had left. I should've realised something—"

"Eric shot him? Shot Bill?" I questioned, my voice heavy with disbelief as I looked between my two friends.

Pam frowned. "I don't think it was him that actually pulled the trigger."

She looked to Sam and he shook his head.

"It was the dark, wiry one," he offered, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing nervously at Pam. "He was holding the gun when we got outside."

"The one who questioned me," she elaborated, her voice distant. "The brute."

I gripped her hand as she continued. "We didn't see everything though because we were still inside. I heard the shot but it didn't really... I wasn't sure what it was. Arlene was just being nosy when she went out to investigate but when she screamed, I knew. I looked around the bar and saw that Bill was gone and somehow I just knew."

I started to feel light-headed again, and leant forward to place my chin on my knees.

"I'm sure Bill will be fine, Sookie," Pam soothed, knowing only too well that it wasn't just Bill who was consuming my thoughts. "He'll fight because he knows that you'll be here for him when he wakes up."

I stayed in that position, my eyes blurry with tears, as Pam rubbed my back. I wasn't sure how much time had passed when I heard footsteps echo along the hallway. I looked up to see Uncle Cope accompanied by another man, in his mid-to-late fifties, that I didn't recognize but assumed was the doctor in charge.

The man gave me a guarded smile as I got to my feet. "Mrs. Compton, my name is Dr. Barnes. I'm the surgeon who operated on your husband."

I nodded. "Hello Doctor." The words caught in my throat as I caught the ashen look on my uncle's face. I couldn't ask; I just stood there, frozen to the spot and gripping Pam's arm, as I waited for the news.

"The bullet pierced your husband's stomach and caught an artery. This caused him to lose a lot of blood. I'm afraid the internal damage was just too extensive and we were unable to get the bleeding under control." He coughed, clearing his throat, and it seemed to echo through the entire hospital. "I'm very sorry Mrs. Compton, we did everything that we could do but William died around five minutes ago."

Pam gasped but I was unable to do anything but numbly nod my understanding. I felt Uncle Cope pry me away from Pam, crushing me into his chest. His familiar smell, always such a comfort to me, invaded my senses and I felt myself slump against him, my legs as shaky as a new-born calf.

"…If it's any comfort?" the doctor's voice continued. "He was in no pain at the end. Even if we had been able to stem the bleeding, we no longer have most of the antibiotics we would most likely need to prevent infection when we tried to repair the stomach. It's better this way."

I nodded, pulling away from my uncle. "Thank you, Doctor," I whispered, wiping my eyes and nose roughly with my handkerchief, which was already saturated with tears. I felt a little woozy as I tried to straighten up and stand on my own. "Can... can I see him?"

Dr. Barnes nodded. "They're just cleaning him up now. Then I can take you to him."

Uncle Copley grabbed my hand. "I'll come with you."

I shook my head. "No. I need to do this on my own."

0-0-0-0-0

Bill's body was covered with a surgical blanket so that only his face, shoulders and arms could be seen. He was milky white, the gentle hum of the overhead lights causing an eerie glow across his skin.

_Deathly pale_, I thought to myself. Now I knew what that meant.

I hesitated for a second before taking his hand. It was cool and smooth to the touch and I found myself thinking of that time in the shelter, the day the Germans had bombed the harbour, when he had held my hand in his. His palm had been clammy and warm that day but he'd been looking after me, even then, although I had been too caught up in myself to realise it.

"It's all my fault," I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes.

I ran my fingers over his forehead, brushing his dark hair away from his face. Lying here with his eyes closed, at peace, I was reminded of how young Bill was. He'd been a man for such a long time: on his own, running a house, running the farm, that I'd almost forgotten he was only a few years older than me.

I leant forward brushing my lips across his. "I'm sorry," I murmured, before pulling the blanket up to cover him.

0-0-0-0-0

Uncle Cope and I walked silently up the path to the cottage. I fumbled for my keys as we approached the front door, eager to get inside. I could visualize my bed and, even though I knew there was little chance I'd sleep tonight, I couldn't wait to collapse into it.

"Maybe you and Rose should come back to the farmhouse? At least for tonight?" he suggested.

I shook my head; my hands trembled slightly, with the cold and with exhaustion, as I inserted the key in the lock. "Thank you, but I should stay here. It would do me good to have a bit of time to myself, I think."

My uncle rubbed his hand along his jaw. "Your aunt's not going to like that," he sighed.

I gave him a tired smile. "That's why I have you - to make her see sense."

He nodded, the corner of his mouth tucking up into a wry smirk.

Auntie Evie was asleep on the couch when we entered the sitting room; the fire had petered out but my ratty afghan blanket was pulled up over her lap. Uncle Cope knelt down beside her, shaking her gently to wake her up. I felt my insides constrict as my aunt's face betrayed the transition from waking up in a strange room to, seconds later, remembering the circumstances behind why she was there.

She glanced up at Uncle Cope, regarding him with both questioning and dread. My uncle shook his head gently, gathering her up in his arms as she broke down, her whole body shaking with quiet sobs. Seeing them like that, comforting each other through their grief, made me realize that Jason and I were not the only strays that the Broadways had taken in over the years. Bill had been at the farm since he was sixteen years old, and both of them had cared for him like a son.

After a moment Evie pulled away from her husband, glancing up at me, her eyes bright with tears. She got up reaching towards me with outstretched arms. "Oh Sook," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

I gave her a sad but grateful smile, luxuriating in the warmth of her embrace, as we clung to each other in sorrow. After a moment, I pulled back. "I should check on Rose," I explained, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand as my aunt did the same.

"Oh my God, Rose," Evie whimpered, and I could tell that it had just only occurred to her the impact that Bill's death would have on his infant daughter. "The poor little thing."

"…And I really am exhausted," I added with an exaggerated yawn, hoping that my aunt and uncle would take the hint. I really didn't want to get into what this would mean for Rose, not tonight.

Uncle Copley was reliable as ever. "Yes, let's leave Sookie to get some rest. We can come and visit tomorrow. I'm sure she'll need some help with Rose and organizing… things."

"Nonsense," Evie chastised. "This is no time for her to be alone. She needs to come back to the farm with us."

I sighed, sinking onto the couch and removing my shoes. "Really Auntie, I want to stay here. Rose and I need to be here."

"It's up to Sookie, Evie," Uncle Copley declared in a tone that brooked no disagreement. He very rarely used that voice, which meant that when he did, it was even more intimidating. My insides warmed with gratitude. "She wants some time alone."

My aunt didn't look happy as she glanced between us but finally nodded her acquiescence. "Fine. I'll be around tomorrow," she said firmly. "And if you need anything..."

I couldn't help but smile. "You'll be the first person to know."

I ushered my aunt and uncle out of the front door and tramped back to the kitchen. Reaching under the sink for the brandy, I poured myself a large glass, and slumped down at the kitchen table.

I really did need some time to myself. Some time to process what this meant for me. How I felt about it. I hadn't loved Bill, that much was true, at least not in the way that I loved Eric. Still, the mix of affection, respect and gratitude that I had for him, combined with months of intimacy living as man and wife, meant that I truly had grown to care for him and I felt a sudden emptiness now that he was gone. But the deep stench of guilt pervaded my senses, tarnishing every tear I shed. After all that had happened between us, I felt as if I had no right to mourn Bill at all.

I had nearly finished my brandy when a gentle knock at the back door ruptured the silence; I looked up to see Eric staring in at me. With a sigh, I got up and approached the door, unlocking it. It surprised me how empty I felt. I was expecting to be angry with him, maybe even yearning a little for him too, but I just felt numb. Numb and very, very tired.

"Is he dead?" he asked gently as I opened the door just enough to insert my body into the gap. He looked dishevelled - his jacket hanging open and his shirt rumpled underneath - and drawn, older than I'd ever seen him look.

I nodded.

"Are you going to let me in?" Eric's frown deepend.

"Not tonight Eric," I whispered.

"Sookie, I-I wanted to see you to explain, to say how sorry I am—"

"I can't do this now, Eric," I said, shaking my head, finally meeting his gaze. My throat stung with the hot burn of impending tears; it surprised me that I had any left. "I'm tired and I can't ever think around you. I need to think. I need some time."

"Sookie, please?"

Eric reached out pleadingly towards me, to touch my face. My eye caught the sleeve of his uniform, stained with blood, and any urge I may have had to sink into his arms disappeared in an instant.

"No, Eric," I reaffirmed. "I'm not ready to talk to you yet."

Eric's eyes followed mine to the arm of jacket and his face flushed - with anger or shame, I wasn't sure.

"Sookie, please. Don't do this," he rasped.

I made to push the door shut. "Please Eric." I gave him a tired smile and I could see the relief on his features at that small gesture. "Just let me get some rest okay?"

He nodded, his eyes meeting mine one last time, full of emotion, before he turned and left.

I left the brandy behind as I pulled myself up the stairs. Taking Rose gently from her cradle, I sunk wearily into the bed. Bill's scent was still fresh on the pillow case as I clung to it, causing a fresh wave of guilt to wash over me, and I curled my body around Rose's as I cried myself to sleep.

0-0-0-0-0

For the second time in less than twelve hours I was woken by the sound of someone knocking. I pulled on my dressing gown irritatedly and rubbed my eyes, sore and puffy from tears and lack of sleep. Rose stirred slightly as I placed her gently back in her crib and I knew I had only a short time before she'd be awake again and want feeding.

I had been expecting it to be Uncle Cope with a summons from my aunt or maybe even Pam, but I opened the front door to find Barry, sopping wet, on the other side. It was raining heavily outside and drips of water were cascading off his hat onto the stone doorstep.

"I woke you up," Barry said, his brow furrowing.

"Don't worry. Rose will have me up soon anyway." I gestured for him to come in while I rushed off to the kitchen to get a towel.

"Here," I said handing it to him. "Dry off and meet me in the kitchen. I'll put the kettle on."

He nodded gratefully, before shucking off his coat and hat and rubbing his hair dry with the towel.

My feet were instantly chilled by the slate floor as I padded into the kitchen so I rifled through the ironing basket, pulling out a pair of Bill's thick work socks. I rubbed the wool pensively between my fingers before finally putting them on. Filling up the kettle with water, I set it on the hob and sat down at the kitchen table waiting for Barry to join me.

"You look like you had a rough night," Barry sighed, taking the chair next to me at the table.

I couldn't help but smile at the understatement. "I've certainly had better."

"I'm so sorry, Sook. That was stupid." He gave me a sheepish grin. "I just don't know what to say. I've never been very good at this sort of thing."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I'm not sure anyone is, or that anything you say could make it better anyway."

He nodded, silent for a moment before lighting up a cigarette and fiddling with the silver ashtray that Maxine had bought Bill and I as a wedding gift. "I only found out about what happened this morning when I saw Pam," he murmured. "I escaped out the back as soon as I saw the Gerries come into the pub. I, um... well it never occurred to me that it would end up like this."

"You couldn't have known," I assured him. "And even if you did, there's nothing you could have done. You probably would have ended up dead too and then I'd be mourning you both."

He nodded, leaning back in his chair and exhaling smoke. "I know, I know... How are you coping with all this? I know that you cared for him a great deal."

I sighed wearily, hugging my arms around my waist and looked down at my feet which had started to warm up. It didn't escape my notice that Barry didn't say that I had _loved _Bill. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Barry was quite that insightful: in a way, he always had known me better than anyone. "I don't know. I can't quite believe he's dead yet... He just went out for a pint and now... now I'm a widow."

Barry grabbed my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you must be going through."

I nodded, getting up as the kettle began to whistle. "I just don't know what to do now."

He gave me a gentle smile, in sympathy. "I'm not sure there's a set plan to follow."

I took two cups from the draining board, placing them on the kitchen table. "I guess there's a funeral to organise," I sighed. "Actually maybe you could help me with that? I'll need someone to keep me sane when Pam and Auntie Evie start interfering."

He looked away, stubbing out his cigarette. "I really wish I could be there for you but..."

"But what?" I asked, confused, bringing the teapot over to the table.

He groaned, cupping the back of his neck with his hand. "I really didn't want to talk about this today. Not once I heard about Bill..."

"But _what_, Barry?" I asked again, more sharply this time, and he shook his head in defeat.

"They're going to deport me," he explained, reaching into his pocket and handing me a crumpled, soggy piece of paper. "Stan and Isobel got one too this morning."

"Deport you?"

He nodded. "Send me to one of their Jew camps."

My eyes skimmed the short but official looking document, and I read aloud the final paragraph feeling sick to my stomach. _"You will be informed, either by special notice or by a notice in the Evening Post newspaper, of the exact time and date when you will have to report at the harbour of __St Helier for the purposes of evacuation to Germany."_

I looked up at Barry. "Oh my God."

Futilely, I skimmed the notice again, desperately hoping that if I re-read the words, they would say something different.

"I'm not going," he whispered, choking back tears as I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight. "I won't let them take me."

**Eric - January 1943 **

Elsa opened the door to her office, grimacing as she took me in. "So how was it?"

I slumped into the chair in front of her desk and chucked my hat on the examination table. "About as bad as you'd expect. Andre went fucking ballistic. He couldn't give a shit that Compton's actually dead of course – it's just the backlash he's worried about. Mott's lucky he's not digging trenches on Aldernay about now, which would be the least that fucker deserves."

"It's hardly surprising if Paulinz has got his knickers in a twist, Eric. Mott was drunk and shot an unarmed civilian outside a busy pub. A married man, a father..." She raised her eyebrow implicatively. "One that was well-respected in the community. Why didn't you all just beat up a Sunday school teacher in the town square on market day and be done with it?"

I groaned, sinking my head into my hands. "I know, I know. I think Mott knows it too, no matter how much he's pleading that he thought Compton was about to stab me." I glanced up at Elsa who was eyeing me with concern. "He kept going on about suspicions that Compton was in the Resistance, which is bull shit of course. Bill would never have been that interesting."

She snorted at that and leant back in her chair. "But talk of the Resistance is like red rag to a bull for Paulinz, and Mott knows it."

"Quite." I rubbed a hand over my head, cupping the back of my neck. "Mott may be reckless, but he's not stupid. He'll probably end up coming out of this with personal commendation from the Fuhrer."

"Have you told Sookie that her husband is about to be dragged through the mud?" Elsa asked, exhaling in disapproval.

I looked away, my skin flushing hot as I remembered last night's exchange. "She wouldn't let me in last night. Would hardly even look at me. I need to try again but..." The truth was that I didn't know how I would get a chance to see her without raising suspicions. I wasn't sure if she'd go back to the farmhouse or stay at the cottage but, either way, she was bound to be surrounded by people, and if she didn't want to see me anyway...

Elsa tilted her head to one side. "So she doesn't know about your mother either?"

I shook my head morosely.

"Maybe it would do her some good to have a little time, Eric?"

I sighed. "But God only knows what she's thinking. I need to talk to her, at least get a chance to explain..." I knew Sookie: she was stubborn and she often over-thought things. I didn't want her jumping to conclusions without me explaining what actually happened. I also needed to warn her: who knows how many people Bill had ranted at that night before coming after me?

"I know, but you should prepare yourself for a bit of opposition Eric." Elsa's gaze flickered to the paperweight on her desk. "She may not have loved the man but he was still her husband..."

"She only married him for the baby, because I wasn't here," I insisted, sounding petulant even to myself.

Elsa's eyes met mine, a tender smile on her lips. "Of course, but she still married him, Eric. And they were friends before that, right? At the very least you were part of a mob of soldiers who killed her friend in a drunken brawl. It may take her some time to get over that, is all I'm trying to say."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in and out. "I know, I do... God, you don't know how much I wish that I had just come home with you last night."

"What's done is done." Elsa waved her hand dismissively. "And who knows, without you to keep Mott on something of a leash, things could have been a whole lot worse."

I nodded in acquiescence, although I wasn't sure how much worse things could have got. "How are things at the house?"

She shrugged. "Evie was crying in the kitchen this morning. I didn't know why until I got here. I snuck past her – didn't have any breakfast." She rolled her eyes. "Not that I'm certain I could have kept it down anyway, the way I was feeling this morning... I'm sure it won't be pretty though. I'm just grateful, I can't understand most of what she's saying. I take it you didn't stay there last night?"

I shook my head. "I didn't exactly sleep much."

Elsa's features pinched into a tight frown. "Well you can't stay at the farm any more. That much is clear."

I nodded. "I know. I'll see about moving to the barracks until I find somewhere more permanent. Maybe you could pack up my stuff? I don't want to send any strange soldiers round to the farmhouse if I don't have to."

"Sure thing. I can do that this evening." She rubbed her face and glanced at the clock. "Look Eric, I've got patients due..."

Taking the hint, I stood up, stretching out my arms before grabbing my hat. "Thanks for listening Els. Again."

Her mouth tucked up into a broad smile. "Where else would I get my entertainment from, if not from you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well I'm glad somebody's having fun."

0-0-0-0-0

The cottage was completely dark as I approached. I took my watch out of my pocket and squinted at it in the moonlight. I doubted Sookie was in bed yet, more likely at the farmhouse with her aunt and uncle. I knew if I waited for her on her doorstep, I would most likely freeze to death, and judging by her reaction last night there was every chance she would refuse to talk to me anyway. Inside seemed the better option on both counts, but it meant that I would have to find a way in and hope that she came home alone.

I tried the front door first but it was locked tight. Made from solid wood with a large dead bolt, there was no way that I would be able to pry it open without causing damage. Pulling my coat tighter around me, I made my way around to the back yard. I tried the door to the kitchen, sighing with relief when it levered open. Quietly I let myself in, wiping my boots on the mat.

The kitchen was pitch black, curtains drawn, but I remembered a small paraffin lamp that Sookie kept on the dresser. Thinking that a wiser option that the light switch, I made to cross the kitchen, my hands out in front of me, for balance and defence against unsuspecting pieces of furniture. I was halfway to the dresser when my boots hit broken glass, each new footstep reverberating through the darkness with a tiny crunch.

My eyes were finally beginning to adjust to the darkness when I found the lamp. I tinkered with it for a moment, fingers still numb from the cold, until its luminance cast a warm glow over the room.

I waved the lamp in front of me. The broken glass on the floor sparkled like diamonds as the light swept over it. I could feel panic begin to seep into, and then flood, my consciousness as I realised that it wasn't just glass – there were ceramics and pottery too, broken and smashed, in pieces on the slate tiles. The kitchen drawers had been emptied, papers and cutlery turned out, and Sookie's cookery books were in a messy pile on the floor.

I carried the lamp over to the table and sat it down next to my hat and gloves, trying to process things. Mott had acted faster than I would have given him credit for and he'd done so with his usual brutish vigour. I ran a frustrated hand through my hair and tried not to think of Sookie being here when he searched her home. They wouldn't hurt her, I told myself, even Mott wasn't that reckless, but as the minutes passed my conviction began to diminish.

I resolved to stay in the cottage for one hour to see if Sookie returned. If she hadn't come back by then, I would go look for her. She was probably with Evie and Cope, I told myself. She was fine. She had to be fine.

I couldn't just sit around though. The light was low but it was good enough to make a start on cleaning up at least. After a moment of searching, I found a broom in Sookie's store cupboard and started to clear a path through the debris. Once a I had cleared most of the floor, I crouched down by Sookie's recipe books trying to put them in order.

"I'm surprised they didn't just burn them."

I looked up to see Sookie in the doorway watching me. Rose was in her arms, decked out in her little red coat.

Relief crashed over me like a wave. "You're okay," I breathed, looking her up and down for signs of injury as I got to my feet.

She snorted scornfully and shook her head. "If that's what you call it..."

I gestured to the glass and shattered crockery piled up by the back door. "I tried to make a start on tidying up."

"I couldn't stay," she explained. "After all that's happened, I just didn't have the energy to put the house back in order as well."

"Sookie—"

"What are you doing here, Eric?" she interrupted. She looked tired, her eyes bloodshot and ringed with red. "You let yourself in? Surely one Nazi invasion per day is enough for any girl?"

I flinched at her acerbic tone. She'd never referred to me as a Nazi before. Not once. "What did you expect me to do?" I asked, trying to pacify her. "You wouldn't even speak to me last night."

"As I recall, I told you that I wasn't ready to talk to you yet. So what do you do? You decide to come here anyway and force the issue. Christ Eric, you are so bloody high-handed sometimes..." Her tone was increasingly bitter as she paced back and forward across the kitchen floor, Rose beginning to grizzle in her arms.

"Sookie," I pleaded, crossing the room towards her. "I just wanted to explain—"

"Explain what, Eric?" she snapped. "That one of your fucking friends murdered Bill. Is that what you wanted to explain? Or maybe you want to explain to me why Barry received a deportation notice today? Or I know... you're here to tell me why I had six Nazi soldiers force themselves into my home this afternoon and turn it upside down?" She glared at me. "You know they're saying Bill was a member of the Resistance now? They _found_ pamphlets in the shed. Those bastards: I know full well there was nothing in there but broken farm tools and seed bags."

Sensing the tension in the room, Rose's griping intensified into a full-blooded howl. I glanced from her to Sookie with concern. "Sookie," I murmured. "Please calm down. You're upsetting Rose."

"Don't worry about Rose," she spat back, her face flushed with rage, as she pulled off Rose's coat. "She just misses her father."

I inhaled sharply, reeling as if she'd slapped me.

Sookie closed her eyes, exhaling deeply, and I knew she was trying to calm herself down. She walked out into the hallway, returning with a small white blanket, wrapping Rose up into a tight little bundle.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a moment, taking a seat at the table and running a finger under each eye. "I-I didn't mean that. You know I didn't mean that. I just lashed out. I wanted to say something to hurt you..."

I looked away, taking a cigarette out of my pocket and lighting it up. "You succeeded."

"You always hurt the ones who love you," she whispered hoarsely, bouncing Rose gently, trying to soothe her. "I should know."

I looked at her. "Sookie, I'm so sorry about Bill. I didn't realise things would get so out of hand."

She sighed exasperatedly. "What were you thinking Eric?"

"I wasn't," I admitted. "I had some bad news yesterday. I'd been drinking. A lot. We all had. Not that that is any excuse of course... We should never have gone to the pub..."

"What bad news?" she asked with a frown.

"My mother..." I took a drag on my cigarette to disguise the fact that my voice was beginning to crack.

Sookie's expression changed immediately to one of compassion. "Oh my God Eric, I'm so sorry."

She went to grab my hand but I pulled her into my lap, revelling at the warmth of her, her weight on me. Rose had quietened down, wedged contentedly in between us. We stayed there for a moment, in silence, just enjoying being close. A family.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

A piece of her hair had escaped from its pin. I twirled it gently between my fingers and then tucked it behind her ear, my fingers grazing the warm skin of her neck. "It seems like such a long time ago, after all that's happened... My mother, I mean. But at the same time it doesn't quite feel like it's sunk in."

She nodded, nuzzling into me. "I know what you mean. I feel like I'm sleepwalking. Even when the soldiers came today, it felt like they weren't really real."

I ran my thumb over her cheek. "Did they hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm more angry than anything else. They kept on saying that Bill was in the Resistance but, I swear Eric, he never was. He never was."

"Shhh," I soothed. "I know that. I know."

She looked up at me. "Then why?"

I sighed. "Sookie, there's something you need to know. Sergeant Mott killed Bill. The man's an animal but his actions weren't totally without provocation."

"What do you mean?" She asked, fine lines of confusion crinkling her brow.

"You heard about my scuffle with Bill in the bar?" I enquired apprehensively.

She nodded. "Sam told me."

"Well, we had left but he followed us out into the car park. He was ranting at us... me. He was drunk. Mott says that he thought Bill was going for a knife but he wasn't, he wanted... I think he wanted to show me this."

Sookie gasped as I placed the watch gently on the kitchen table.

"He kept saying _I know_. I know."

Sookie's eyes met mine, her expression heavy with guilt. "He knew all along?" she asked, reaching out with her finger to trace the bloody stain on the worn leather strap.

"Yes. It would seem so."

Sookie shrunk back from me, a look of resignation darkening her features. "So this is all our fault."

I shook my head. "Sookie, it's no one's fault. It's a tragedy. Plain and simple."

"You're not sad he's dead though, are you?" she asked, a touch of accusation in her voice.

I shrugged. "I'm sad for you. I would never want you to be hurt like this... I didn't like him it's true, but I didn't want him dead either... Most of the time."

She gave me a reluctant smile and then looked down at Rose, brushing her lips across her fluffy blonde hairline. She pushed herself off of my lap, sitting back down in the chair next to me, cradling the baby, trying to soothe her to sleep.

After a moment she looked up at me. "Eric, you have to see that this has gone too far."

I frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Her voice was quiet as she gazed at Rose, rocking her back and forth. "Bill is dead because of us. You must see that... We're being punished I think. Maybe... I don't know. But I do know that it will be Rose next, or my aunt and uncle. Unless we stop this, other people will continue to pay for _our_ selfish choices."

I flinched at her words. "Sookie, I don't accept that."

She wiped her cheek with her fingers and looked away. "I think for so long I tried to persuade myself that what we did was our business and ours alone, that love would conquer all in the end. But I just can't see how that will ever be the case."

I shook my head, blinking back tears of my own. I could hear my heartbeat pulsing in my head as if the organ itself might burst. "Sookie, no. Don't do this."

"I can't Eric," she whispered, shaking her head. "I know you're a good man but I just can't look myself in the eye any more, knowing what we've done... what we continue to do. I just can't."

"But I love you."

She glanced up at me, tears cascading down her cheeks. Even now, in the soft glow of the lamplight, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. "And I love you, so much... But it's not enough. I realise now that it's not enough. It was selfish to ever think that it was."

"Sookie—" I rasped.

She shook her head, glancing away. "It's over Eric. Please don't make this any harder... I need you to go. Please just go."

It took me two attempts to stand up, my legs felt like jelly underneath me.

I walked shakily to the back door, allowing myself one final look at the both of them, before walking out into the darkness.

0-0-0-0-0

I was sitting outside the Colonel's office when he arrived with Private Schmidt in tow. I stood up and saluted them both as Andre paused, looking me up and down, before beckoning me to follow him.

"I was under the impression that I told you to get out of my sight yesterday?" Andre muttered disdainfully as I trudged behind him into his office. "I appreciate that I wasn't time specific but I had hoped that would result in you staying away for more than a day."

I hung my head remorsefully but kept silent, knowing that he wasn't requiring an answer. I watched Schmidt as he wilfully ignored the exchange, concentrating on building a fire in the hearth; it was cold enough in the room that I could see my breath as I exhaled.

"What do you want, Major?" Andre inquired impatiently, pulling off his black leather gloves and tossing them on the table beside his desk before hanging up his overcoat.

My gut ground with nausea as I answered him, trying to keep my voice even, unfazed.

"I want to take you up on your offer, sir... I want to go to Berlin."

**A/N: Well it didn't take me three months to update – surely that deserves a review?**


	18. Chapter 18 Encampment

**A/N: Hi everyone. I'm still here! Thanks, as always, for all your fantastic reviews and words of encouragement. I feel like I've got some really loyal, insightful readers for this story and I'm truly grateful for each and every one of you.**

**We're all in Sookie POV this chapter, so let's get to it.**

**"Home is the only place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." - Robert Frost**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. I just relocate them, dress them up in period clothing and break their hearts.**

**Sookie - January 1943**

I spent the next couple of days going through the cottage, cleaning up the mess that the soldiers had made. It seemed like a waste to have to go through a similar process again in a couple of months, and let's face it, I needed the distraction, so, relying heavily on both Evie's determination to interfere and Pam's total lack of sentimentality, I also made a start on packing up some of Bill's possessions. Before I knew it, I had five boxes of his belongings stacked up in the hallway and the day of the funeral had arrived.

I still had vivid memories of both my parents' and my grandmother's funerals back in Louisiana and so, to some extent, I was more prepared than most. That said, it was still every bit as awful as I feared, maybe even more so. I spent the day numbly thanking people for their offers of sympathy and kind words about Bill, counting the hours until I could simply crawl into bed and forget the world. My uncle and aunt had hosted a small wake at the farm so, by around seven, I was able to slip away with Rose across the field and make my way back to the cottage.

I had to stifle a groan when I heard Sam's voice call out to me, just yards from my front door. I spun around to face him as he jogged up beside me in his funeral suit, tie loosened, his breath misting white in the cold January air.

"I'm sorry, Sook," he said, panting slightly. "I needed to speak to you alone for a moment and there were so many people today, I just didn't get a chance to catch you earlier."

I shook my head and gestured to the cottage. "No, that's fine. Did you want to come in?"

He nodded, running a hand through his sandy hair. "Sure. Just for a minute."

I let us in and ushered Sam towards the kitchen. "I'm just going to put Rose down for the night. There's some brandy under the sink, if you—"

"Thanks Sook." Sam smiled gratefully. "You read my mind."

I made my way downstairs about fifteen minutes later. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at last night's Evening Post, glass in hand. I exhaled heavily, remembering that I'd left the paper open on the notice setting out Barry's deportation order.

Another brandy was poured out for me, placed opposite him. As I took my seat, I glanced at the bottle. I'd been drinking more and more lately: it was nearly empty.

"Did you know?" I asked softly when Sam finally looked up at me.

He put the paper off to one side and nodded, his expression betraying a myriad of different emotions. "They came looking for him this morning at the pub after he didn't show. All his things were gone from the top room. I don't know where he is."

Feeling my eyes well up for the hundredth time today, I took a fortifying gulp of the dark liquid in front of me, relishing it pool, hot and sweet, in my stomach. "He said he would run. When he wasn't at the funeral today, I wasn't sure what to think..."

"You've had plenty of others things on your mind," he sighed. "So you don't know where he's gone?"

I wiped my knuckle under my eye. "No."

"Sometimes I feel so useless," Sam admitted after a moment, his voice hollow. He fumbled for a cigarette, lighting it up and looking away. "Too young for the last war, too old for this one. If I could just join up and fight those bastards—"

"You're are anything but useless, Sam. I doubt many people are doing more on this island than you."

He flicked his cigarette irritatedly over the ashtray. "I sell beer to the masses, Sookie. I keep them entertained. It's hardly heroic."

I stilled his hand, catching his eye and smiled at him. "I think we both know that you do a little bit more than that."

"Maybe," he agreed, his lips twitching up into a half-hearted grin. "But it's not enough."

I shrugged. "We do what we can to survive."

He nodded silently, taking long pensive pulls on his cigarette before stubbing it out. I sat there, watching him smoke as I sipped my brandy, feeling the ache of tiredness deep down to my bones.

Sam must have noticed because he stood up abruptly. "I should be going."

I stretched my arms out, managing to suppress a yawn halfway through. "I'm sorry Sam. I just can't keep my eyes open."

"Don't be silly. It's been a long, awful day. I just wanted to let you know about Barry."

We shared a concerned look and I smiled gratefully. "I'm really glad you did."

I walked him to the front door and he paused on my front step. "You know what they're saying about Bill – the Nazis - it isn't true. He was never involved."

"I know that." I nodded, my lip beginning to tremble as I felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over me.

"Ah, don't cry Sook," he whispered, pulling me into a hug. "I never could stand to see a girl cry, especially you."

It felt so good to be held, after the day's events. My mind suddenly flickered to Eric and I tried not to think about the way his arms felt around me.

"Bill was a good man," Sam murmured into my hair as I sunk into his embrace, allowing myself to enjoy his smell, his warmth, for just a second more.

"He was," I whispered, before pulling back, wiping my eyes again.

Sam's eyes searched mine for a moment and I saw a flicker of emotion there, something I recognised but hadn't seen from Sam in many months. "If you ever need anyone, Sookie... For anything..."

"Sam," I whispered nervously, unable to stop myself from looking away. I couldn't deal with this now, I just didn't have the energy. "I'll be fine."

He frowned, nodding firmly. "Of course."

Forcing a smile, I grabbed his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. "Take care Sam. If you hear anything from Barry..."

He nodded, relaxing slightly. "Bye Sook. I'll come and see you soon."

0-0-0-0-0

I let myself into the farm by the back door, looking around to see who was home. The kitchen was empty, so I placed Rose down, knitted rabbit in hand, into the little playpen that Uncle Cope had set up for her by the fire. Padding out into the hallway, I called up the stairs for my aunt. She didn't answer but instead Elsa made her way downstairs towards me.

"Hello," I said distractedly, anxiously looking past her, up the stairway, wondering whether Eric was home too.

I didn't want to see him. Not yet. I knew I needed more time until I was strong enough to pretend in front of him, to act like I was coping without him better than I was. The decision that I had made was the right one, I was confident of that, but it had taken every last shred of strength I had that night to call things off and, if he asked me to come back to him now, I knew I'd never be able to refuse him. I was too tired and, even after everything, I already missed him so much.

"Hello," she replied quietly, standing on the bottom stair so that she was elevated but still much shorter than me. I couldn't help but smile: she really was quite tiny, and Eric was so tall. They made quite the pair.

"My aunt? Evie?" I questioned, palms up, looking around exaggeratedly. I knew she had very little English but I thought she might get the gist of it.

She pointed to the front door. "Evie. Out."

I smiled in understanding, thanking her, before turning back to the kitchen to get Rose. I'd come back again later to see my aunt.

"Sookie?" Elsa's voice was cautious, gentle, behind me. I felt her hand on my arm, stilling me, and stopped.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, turning to face her.

"Please?" She held her hands up, indicating to me that I should wait where I stood.

I nodded, frowning with curiousity, and watched her as she disappeared up the stairs and returned, seconds later, with something in her hand. My stomach twisted with apprehension as she made her way down towards me.

A letter.

As she came closer, I could see part of my name on the envelope, written elegantly in what could only be Eric's handwriting.

I looked at her questioningly, my hand trembling as I reached for the envelope. Her smile was thin, but it was her eyes, full of concern, pity even, that told me all that I needed to know: there was nothing but bad news inside.

Making my way back into the kitchen, I sat down on the floor by Rose, leaning up against the bars of the pen and tucking my legs up underneath me. Elsa sat down on the rocking chair, edging it towards me, and watched with trepidation as I tore through the paper.

I was four lines in before my world fell apart around me. My chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice; I couldn't get enough air. I crumpled the paper between my fingers as I gasped for breath, tears spilling down my cheeks.

He was gone.

_I'm sorry but I can't do this. I can't watch you and Rose from afar. _

_It hurts too much._

My whole body twisted with pain as I sobbed silently, trying to take in the rest of the letter. My vision was cloudy with tears, my mind racing, and I found myself reading and re-reading the same passage over and over.

_You must know that the time I spent with you and Rose was the happiest I've ever known. That's why __I have to go._

I shook my head, glancing up at Elsa. "I never..." I mumbled incoherently. "I didn't mean..."

As if sensing my distress Rose reached over to me through the bars, her chubby hand clawing at my cheek. I reached over to get her, hugging her to me, feeling pain rip through my heart at the realisation that Eric was gone from both of our lives and he was never coming back. I'd done this. I had lost him forever. And so had she.

I don't know how long I sat there, rocking Rose back and forth. Once my tears had begun to subside, I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and read the letter a final time, committing every word to memory.

_I love you both and I will love you forever._

Finally, I placed Rose back in her playpen and, resolutely, made my way over to the fireplace. The hearth was dead but there were matches on the mantlepiece and with unsteady hands, I opened the packet and struck one against the brick. It didn't light and I felt myself start to tear up again, this time with frustration. I tried again futilely, once, twice more, cursing under my breath, until Elsa came behind me, curling her tiny hand over mind and taking the match. She lit it first go, holding it up to me with an apologetic smile.

"You'll miss him too," I whispered defeatedly and she nodded sadly, apparently understanding only too well what I meant.

I took a deep, cleansing breath before edging the corner of the letter into the flame, closing my eyes in pain as I threw it into the fire.

0-0-0-0-0

"Mrs Compton?" Colonel Paulinz raised his eyebrow as he gestured for me to sit down, clearly surprised to see me again. "Correct me if I'm wrong but I believe that it was Miss Stackhouse last time we met?"

I nodded, guiding Rose's pram close beside my chair before taking a seat. "I got married."

The Colonel's gaze flickered towards the pram. "So I see."

I resisted the temptation to glance at Rose, who was beginning to stir. I cursed myself for bringing her with me; I'd been flustered, I hadn't been thinking straight. True, the young Private had requested my presence immediately, but I should have insisted that we stop by the farm and handed her off to Evie first. Hell, any stranger in the street would have been better than bringing her here.

He sighed, taking a sip of what looked like whisky, before grimacing slightly as if the taste of it burned. I resisted the temptation to look at my watch; I knew it was only minutes after eleven in the morning and it didn't look like it was his first. I smoothed my black woollen skirt out over my knee, waiting for him to begin.

"So you know why I requested this meeting?"

I nodded. "I can only assume you want to question me about my husband, Colonel."

The Colonel leaned back in his chair. His cold eyes scanned my face, looking for something, I wasn't sure what, and it took everything I had to hold his gaze and not look away. "Our investigation has concluded that William Compton was an active member of an illegal resistance group. He was shot by one of my officers as a result of his involvement in these activities."

I pressed my lips together, looking down at my lap, not even bothering to protest Bill's innocence, knowing it would get me nowhere.

"The question now, Mrs Compton," he continued in precise but strongly accented English, "is how much you knew about your husband's activities. Whether, in fact, you are also involved?"

"I'm not," I assured my inquisitor, firmly, clasping my hands together to prevent them from trembling. "I didn't know anything about it. He never told me. I would never have approved of his involvement in such things."

He eyed me circumspectly. "You don't approve of the activities of the Resistance?"

I shook my head. "I don't approve of any activity that would mean my daughter is left without her father, Colonel."

He shrugged dismissively, taking a slug of his drink. "Men wage war. It is often the case that the women and children pay the price for it."

"Colonel, I just want to be able to grieve for my husband and get on with my life. I have no interest in anything outside that."

He frowned in thought and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Before he left for Berlin, Major Northman assured me that you would have nothing to do with such foolishness... I'm inclined to accept his assessment, for now, and end the investigation with your husband."

Eric had said something? The surprise on my face must have been obvious.

"Yes, the Major seems to be quite willing to - how do you say? - stick his neck out for your family. First your Uncle, now you... I must admit I hadn't made the connection until I saw you again this morning."

I tried urgently to school my features. "Well, Major Northman lived with us for over two years. He knows what type of people we are..." _Lived_. The past tense. I felt my chest tighten at the thought.

Paulinz took another sip of his drink, his expression pensive. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

He rose from his chair, signalling the end of the interview, and made his way to the my side of his desk. "Well, I have another appointment..."

I nodded, making to leave, rocking Rose's pram to quieten her as she began to grizzle. I felt my blood chill as the Colonel leaned over pram, assessing my daughter.

"She's quite beautiful," he mused, tickling Rose's cheek with his index finger. _"_I never met your late husband. Is she much like him?"

"She's too young to tell really," I mumbled nervously. "Although people mostly say that she takes after me."

"How old is she?" He tilted his head to one side, his eyes locking on mine as he rubbed his hand over the snowy chaff of his closely-cropped hair.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. "She's four months old," I lied steadily, forcing a grin and hoping desperately that a man of his age wouldn't know the difference.

"A lot has happened to you in the last year," he said, giving me a wintry smile.

I nodded silently, before backing the pram away from him and pushing it towards the door. "Goodbye, Colonel."

"Until next time, Mrs Compton."

0-0-0-0-0

I sat up with a start, bolt upright in bed, my eyes blinking drowsily as they adjusted to the dark.

My first thought was of Bill: a fleeting moment, quickly evaporating as consciousness seeped in. He was gone, I knew that, but there were seconds between waking and actually being awake where I had made that mistake more than once. I withdrew the arm that had begun to reach across the bed for him and hugged it around my middle feeling the weight of my grief and guilt begin to soak into my bones once more. Expecting it to be Rose waking me up, I glanced over in the direction of her cot. I could make out the rough outline of the wooden frame in the blackness, but the gentle thrum of her breathing let me know that she was still fast asleep.

With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and squinted through its too-bright glare in the direction of the alarm clock. Ten past four. I clicked off the light and sunk back into bed with a groan, pulling the blankets up around me and shutting my eyes tight, trying to remember what I had been dreaming about and wishing that I could get myself back there.

I heard it clearer the second time, without the fogginess of sleep. A rustling sound. Downstairs. Maybe the kitchen. I gripped the sheets between my fingers, feeling my insides run cold as a singular thought penetrated my understanding.

Someone was in the cottage.

I sat up again, slowly this time, gently swinging out of bed, feeling the chill of the night as it hit my bare legs. Blood was pumping frantically around my head and I bent forward, my head near my knees, straining to hear anything further as I tried to snatch together a plan. The way I saw it, I had two options: I could gather Rose up and sneak out of the cottage to the farm or I could stay, stand my ground and confront them, whoever they may be. Running was the smarter choice, I knew that, but my thoughts drifted to Bill's rifle, propped up by the muddy boots in the cupboard under the stairs. I could use it - Uncle Cope had taught me when I was a girl – and, although it had been a while, I knew I was a pretty good shot.

The correct course of action probably depended on who was down there. I doubted it was Nazi soldiers. Their approach was far more direct, as I knew from recent personal experience, and Colonel Paulinz had assured me that Bill's investigation was closed. So that left thieves. There was very little crime in town, in fact I couldn't remember the last time I heard of something being stolen, and it was simply unheard of this far out. We had always left our back doors open, even at night, so people could just come and go. But the war was taking its toll on everyone. There just wasn't enough food available on the island and people were getting hungry. I supposed it was only logical that places like farms would become targets.

As I crossed my room silently and reached for my robe, a final possibility flitted through my mind. What if it was Eric downstairs? Maybe he didn't go to Berlin after all? He'd let himself in before, maybe he was waiting for me again? Even as the thoughts went through my head, I knew I was kidding myself. He was gone - for good this time. But I also knew there was no way I could leave the cottage without first checking if it was him.

I debated moving Rose, hiding her somewhere, but if she woke up and cried, the game was up. So instead, I snuck my way past her cot onto the hallway landing. I knew those particular steps that creaked more than the others but the fact remained that it was an old cottage and it was almost impossible to move around it without making a sound. Holding my breath, my heart hammering against my chest, I tip-toed down the stairs in the darkness, step by step, carefully, cringing each time the wood strained beneath my weight. After what felt like forever, my toes finally caressed the rug at the bottom of the stairs.

They say that when you lose one sense, your others somehow take steps to compensate. I could hardly see a thing in the pitch dark of the hallway but my hearing was ultra-sensitive now as I listened out for noises from the back of the cottage, aware of the sounds caused by my own movements as well. I heard what sounded like a chair being moved across the tiles of the kitchen floor and shivered, knowing for sure now that it wasn't just my imagination. I edged along the hallway, my back flush to the stairs, until my fingers embraced the smooth wood of the cupboard doorknob.

First wiping my clammy palms against my robe, I extended my arm again, twisting the knob awkwardly towards me and levering door open. Gently, I released it, freezing to the spot as the lever clicked, echoing through the hall. A moment passed, a heartbeat, and there was no movement from the kitchen, so I sidled cautiously towards the now open cupboard, grappling for the gun in the darkness.

My shoulders slumped with relief as my fingers made contact with the cool metal of Bill's rifle. I had no idea if it was loaded or not; there would be shells in the cupboard but I had tidied them away earlier this week and doubted I would ever find them without turning on the light. I had to hope it was loaded, or else the gun would be enough of a deterrent on its own, without me having to fire it.

Gripping the rifle firmly in my arms, I crept across the hallway, through the sitting room, towards the kitchen. My heart stuttered as I noted the warm glow of the paraffin lamp, down as low as it would go, but definitely alight.

I pressed myself up against the doorway, taking a final deep breath, trying to tame the adrenaline coursing through my system as I led with the rifle, stealing a peek into the kitchen.

"Fucking hell, Barry," I yelped, seeing my friend sat at the table tucking into some bread and cold chicken. "You scared me half to death."

0-0-0-0-0

I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table next to him, propping the rifle up against the fridge.

He looked from to the gun back to me. "Do you even know how to use that?"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Did I look like I know how to use it?"

Barry shuddered slightly, and I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the look of sheer terror on his face just moments ago. "Yes, you did."

"You're lucky I didn't bloody shoot you dead," I said, half in jest, but I could hear the emotion strain my voice.

He nodded. "I know… I'm sorry for scaring you."

I shook my head, reaching out for his hand. "It's fine. I'm just glad you're okay."

He sighed, taking my hand and squeezing my fingers between his. I could see his jaw stiffen and I knew that he was forcing back emotion, trying to stay calm.

"Where have you been staying, Barry?" I asked gently.

He shrugged. "Around… Last night, I stayed in your shed. I figured if the Nazis had already been there, it was probably the safest place for me."

I gasped. "You must have been freezing. Why didn't you…?" My voice trailed off as Barry gave me a knowing look. I knew full well why he didn't come to me. To protect me. To protect Rose.

I shook my head and looked him over, appraising his condition. His cheeks were still flushed red from the cold, he had about a week's growth of dark stubble, and he clearly hadn't showered in a couple of days. "Well you can't stay out there in the middle of winter. You'll freeze to death." I looked down at the empty plate in front of him that had once contained tomorrow's lunch. "And you're obviously starving…"

"I'll be fine," he countered bravely, stubbornly. "Although if you don't mind leaving some food out every now and again, I can sneak by and get it, at least until the Spring—"

"I'm not leaving you scraps on the doorstep, Barry," I replied irritatedly, looking up at him, catching his eye. "You're my friend, not a stray cat. You'll stay here and that's the end of it."

Barry's eyes went wide and he scraped his chair back, releasing my hand as if it had burned him. "Sookie, no. Don't be ridiculous. Do you have any idea what they'll do to you if they find out that you've been hiding me? We'll _both_ be shot or sent to the camps. And what about Rose?" His lip began to quiver and I felt myself well up in response. "No. I can't let you do it."

I shook my head, giving him a sad smile. "It's not about _letting_ me, Barry. You're my friend, my oldest friend at that. And I know you'd do it for me…"

Tears began to fall down his cheeks as I crouched down beside him, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"It's too dangerous," he rasped, his body shaking as he tried to control his sobs.

I shook my head: it was incredibly dangerous, foolish even, but it wasn't _too_ dangerous. In the last week this war had taken Bill, and I had lost Eric forever. I'd be damned if I'd lose Barry too. He was worth the risk.

"We'll be careful. I won't tell a soul, not even Cope and Evie. You can stay upstairs and we'll clear some space in the attic if you need to hide. Like you said, the Nazis have already turned this place upside down. It's the last place they'd look." He held my gaze and I nodded. "We can do this," I assured him.

"Okay," he whispered, finally, and the relief was almost palpable, washing over him as he melted into my arms.

I held him tight, like I would a child, as his body shook against me.

"I still can't believe this is happening to me," he whispered. "I hate them. I fucking hate them so much."

"I know," I murmured, stroking his hair to soothe him. "Me too. But I promise that I'll keep you safe. I won't let them take you."

**A/N: So hopefully that allayed some of your fears about my plans for Barry. Eric will be back in the next chapter, I promise.**

**As always, your reviews bring sunshine to my life, so please let me know your thoughts. **

**I should also pimp the I Write the Songs Contest. I've written an entry – see my profile if you're interested – and there will be other entries going up on the community page that need your reviews. It's also still open for submission, so if you fancy joining in see fanfiction u/2491610/I_Write_The_Songs for further information.**


	19. Chapter 19 Subterfuge

**A/N: Thanks so much to all of you reading, alerting and reviewing out there. I really am grateful for your continued support. It's so motivating to get your feedback so please keep it coming.**

**Also a big shout-out to Ro Nordmann who has made me an awesome banner for this story. Thanks Ro! Check out my profile for the link.**

**Bit of a time jump in this chapter... **

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. **

"**Hide until everybody goes home. Hide until everybody forgets about you. Hide until everyone dies."- Yoko Ono**

**Eric - August 1943 **

I sat at the window and inhaled deeply on my cigarette, expelling smoke into the blackness of the world outside. The moon was high and bright tonight, coating everything outside and in the bedroom with an eerie silver glow. I glanced over towards the bed watching Ingrid as she slept, the pale skin of her bare back rising and falling with each sonorous breath, her platinum curls splayed haphazardly across the pillow.

Finishing up, I stubbed the cigarette on the sill, flicking the dead butt into the street below. I left the window open; it was hot tonight, humid and airless, and my skin felt sticky with sweat and sex.

Ingrid stirred as I perched on the edge of the bed, rooting around for my socks on the floor nearby.

"You're going?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep. The sheets pooled around her waist as she sat up on her elbows, watching me fasten my belt.

I didn't look up. "I need to get home."

"I thought you would stay tonight," she said, matter-of-factly. There was no anger, no pleading: it was just a statement of expectation.

My arrangement with Ingrid was one of mutual convenience. I hadn't told her much about Sookie and Rose but, in reality, I didn't have to: we'd recognized something in each other almost the first time we met. Ingrid's husband, a middle-ranking naval commander, had died early in the war. She'd managed to pick herself up off the floor for her children's sake, taking a job as a typist at the Interior Ministry, and so, to the outside observer, she was coping well. To me though, her beautiful face, every expression, was marred by the deep grief that his loss had caused. It was like she wore it as a badge.

I knew a thing or two about loss myself, and like Ingrid, I was lonely. So we had gravitated towards each other for comfort, each secure in the fact that the other would expect no more than that. No more than we would each be able to give.

My eyes met hers as I tucked my shirt into my pants. "I don't want to confuse what we're doing here."

She shrugged dismissively. "I'm not confused, Eric. The boys are with their grandmother tonight, I suppose I just assumed—"

I picked my hat up off the bedside table and leaned over the bed to kiss her, effectively shutting the conversation down. "I'll see you in the week?"

She sunk back into the bed with a sigh. "Sure. Not Wednesday. Your father has me working late."

I nodded. "Thursday then. We could go to Clarchens?"

"The Ballhaus?" She smiled lazily, stretching out towards the empty side of the bed, not bothering to pull up the covers. "Sounds like fun."

"Fine. I'll pick you up—"

The piercing sound of the siren cut me short, screaming at us through the open window. I cursed under my breath, mentally calculating if I would have time to make it back to my father's house and its sturdy cellar, before I needed to jump into a shelter.

"It's not worth taking the chance, Eric," Ingrid asserted, reading my mind. She reached for her dress, discarded earlier and draped over the end of the bed. "There's a hochbunker at the end of the street. Come on."

We made our way out of Ingrid's apartment block, getting caught up on the stairs in a flurry of families and other tenants, and ran down the street to the concrete shelter. The bunker was already crowded but I found a space on a bench towards the back, Ingrid perched on my knee.

"Did you see where they were coming from?" she whispered. There was no need to whisper but I understood why she did. The atmosphere in the public shelter was tense, anxious voices speaking in hushed tones. The heat didn't help, the smell of hot breath and bodies: it made the space feel close, even more constricted.

I shook my head, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on my brow, regretting that I hadn't made a run for it while I had the chance. "I don't think they'd bother bombing Köpenick," I tried to reassure her, knowing that she was thinking of her children. "There are no factories there, nothing important. It's probably the safest place for them."

She buried her head into my chest. "I don't know what… I just can't lose them as well."

"I know. It'll be all right." I rocked her slightly, trying to soothe her, holding her tight as something outside landed close enough to reverberate through the walls of the shelter.

"I wonder if the telephone exchange will go down again," she mused. "It could be days before..."

I shrugged distractedly, not really listening, my mind occupied by other things. Memories. Fragments of happier times.

Ingrid leaned back in my lap and cupped my face gently with her fingers. "Do you think about her when you're with me?" she whispered, her eyes not quite meeting mine.

I gave her a sad smile, saying nothing, and pulled her back against my uniform. We sat there in silence, holding each other, as the wail of the siren and the havoc of the outside world clattered around us.

After a while the noise outside began to diminish and it was as if the people in the shelter, so still up until now, had breathed a collective sigh of relief. The mood shifted to one of restlessness. I could hear the yap yap of a small dog on the far side of the shelter. People were twisting and fidgeting, eager to examine the damage outside, as we waited tensely for the second siren to signal the end of the raid.

Ingrid was calmer now too. She made to get up, to stretch her legs, but I grabbed her lightly by the wrist, stopping her still.

"Yes," I said, hoarsely, honestly. She looked puzzled for a moment, until I explained. "I think about her when I'm with you. All the time."

She nodded sadly, gently pulling her arm away. "Me too."

0-0-0-0-0

I entered the main foyer of the Office for Information Security weaving my way through the click-clack of the steno pool as I made my way to my father's office. I caught Ingrid's eye as I brushed past her desk, returning her coy smile before approaching Anneke, my father's secretary-cum-gatekeeper.

I smiled in greeting as I approached her, removing my hat. "Hello Anneke. How's things?"

"Major Northman," she said formally, nothing in her expression belying the fact that she had known me since I was six years old. "I'm quite well thank you."

I gestured to the door with my head. "The General's expecting me."

That seemed to relax her slightly and she finally returned my smile, just a little. "Go right ahead, sir."

When I entered, my father was on the phone, pacing back and forth as the cord would allow. He glanced up at me as I approached the desk and gestured silently for me to sit down. I sat there for a moment, enjoying the cool air of his office fan as he barked at some undeserving minion about factory coordinates, before reaching across his desk and picking up the photograph of my mother that was displayed there.

My father paused, halting his tirade just for a moment, watching me as I studied the black and white print. I looked up at him, catching his eye before he turned away, continuing with his telephone discussion.

I ran my finger lightly over my mother's face. The photograph was taken long enough ago that she looked like herself, healthy and vibrantly beautiful, and she was gazing side-on at the camera with an expression that implied that she knew your secrets and found them all mildly amusing. I couldn't help but smile: it was an expression I knew well.

Finally, my father hung up, stretching his arms out and clicking his neck before sinking back into his high-backed chair.

"You were late home last night," he muttered impassively, writing something down before pushing the paper and pen to one side.

"Are you keeping tabs on me?" I asked, only half-joking. When it came to my father, that might well be the case.

He sighed. "There have been three air raids this week, Eric. I have no desire to interfere in whatever arrangements you have in place to fill your bed. It would simply be courteous while you live under my roof to inform me if you are not planning to come home."

There were so many answers to that statement: the most obvious one being that I didn't actually want to live under his roof. In fact I would be positively giddy with joy to live elsewhere, but there was no way the great Friedrich Northman would have his only son and heir ensconced anywhere but in the ancestral pile. If he were most fathers you would think it was because he was lonely, that he wanted to spend time with his son now that his beloved wife was dead. But I knew better.

I leaned forward, gently placing the photo frame back on his desk.

"I got stuck on the other side of the city," I explained vaguely, suddenly realising that there was little hope that he didn't already know about Ingrid. The thought was unpleasant to say the least. "I had to hole up in a shelter until the raid was over."

"Of course." My father nodded dismissively, signaling that he was bored with that topic and wanted to move on to the real reason he had called me in.

I eyed him expectantly.

"You're being promoted, Eric, to Lieutenant Colonel. And they're putting you in charge of the Waffenämter," he announced ebulliently.

"Procurement?" I groaned, palming the back of my neck in frustration.

My father shrugged. "You've made it clear that you don't want to get your hands dirty in this department, and performance reports from both Colonel Paulinz and Colonel Beck praise your expertise in that area. You should be pleased."

I shook my head, not even bothering to ask how many other officers in the Wehrmacht had fathers with access to their performance reports. "You know full well that I would rather forgo the promotion and be sent into the field."

My father's expression turned into one of thinly-veiled irritation. "Must we have this conversation again?"

I sighed, exasperated. "I'm not sure why there's a need for a conversation at all. I was under the impression that it was _my_ life, _my_ military career—"

My father ignored me, demonstrating that that impression was not a shared one. On either count. "You know Himmler's just been made head of the Ministry. He's shaking things up, Eric. He asked for you by name."

I raised my eyebrow. "Really? Did he ask for Major Eric Northman or did he ask for General Friedrich Northman's son?"

"Does it really matter?" My father's eyebrow quirked up in response and I was reminded of how much we resembled each other. He had a few more lines, of course, and was a little softer around the middle, but it was like looking into a mirror when I looked at him.

Except for the eyes: I had my mother's eyes.

I sighed. "Not if you're Friedrich Northman, I suppose."

"Don't be a child, Eric. You've seen enough action. This is a very good move for us."

"Us?" I scoffed. "And there I was thinking _I_ was the one getting a promotion?"

There was a brief knock at the door before Anneke popped her head around the dark mahogany.

"General," she announced. "Your three o'clock appointment is waiting."

I stood up, not waiting to be dismissed. I knew that would piss him off and, given the way the conversation had just gone, that pleased me more than it should.

My father raised a finger to Anneke, instructing her to wait there, and leant across his desk, pulling something from the drawer to his left. "This came to me by mistake," he said coolly, handing me a letter.

I took it from his hand, glancing down at the envelope addressed to me in Elsa's methodical nurse's script. My heart stuttered momentarily and then I collected myself, remembering that I had explicitly instructed Elsa never to mention news about Sookie and Rose, other than in an abstract, general way.

"It's from a Nurse Ludwig," my father explained unnecessarily, not even bothering to pretend he hadn't opened it.

"I know who it's from," I replied carefully, tucking it into my inside pocket.

"She means something to you, this nurse?" My father tilted his head. "Andre says you were very close, back in Jersey."

"Andre clearly read more into it than there was. It wasn't like that," I breathed, feeling my blood run cold at my father's implicit threat.

"No, no, of course not." His features twisted into a cold smile as he raised his eyes to meet mine. "You'll be home for supper tonight? I have a number of associates from the Waffenämter coming to dine that I would like you to meet."

I glanced away, defeated, feeling the corner of Elsa's letter dig into my chest. Reluctantly I nodded my assent. "I'll be there."

His smile spread, wide and triumphant. This was how he had always done things: everyone was a pawn to him, to be directed and manipulated. "Well, my congratulations Lieutenant Colonel."

Anneke didn't meet my eye as I sidled past her and out of the door. "Thank you… sir."

**Sookie – September 1943**

"That was delicious, cher," Sam announced, wiping his chin and leaning back with a satisfied smile. "Thank you."

I couldn't help but beam proudly as I eyed his empty bowl, drained of every last drop of his second helping of my beetroot and potato soup. We'd run out of salt last week and it was my first attempt at cooking with sea water. Clearly it had been a success. "You're very welcome. You know I enjoy cooking for you."

He chuckled. "It's just as well considering how much time I spend here eating said cooking."

I waved my hand dismissively. "Don't be silly. I like the company."

He fiddled with his spoon. "Actually, that's something that I wanted to talk to you about."

I frowned, not quite understanding.

He took a breath. "Well, you see, I was hoping to persuade you to come back to work."

"I—" I stuttered, my frown deepening.

He held his hand up. "Before you say no. Just hear me out."

I nodded warily for him to continue.

"I'm just talking a few shifts a week. But we're down Barry already and now that Arlene is pregnant, it'll just be me and Pam. You'd be doing me a real favour. And I know you miss the company, especially now that Bill is gone. I think it would do you good to get out and about a bit more…"

"Sam, it's a really nice offer but I—"

"Evie could look after Rose, couldn't she?" He looked away. "And I know you must need the money, Sook."

I sighed in defeat; I might as well have been arguing with Pam. And he was right: with Barry to feed as well as myself and Rose, I needed money for the black market. "You've got it all worked out haven't you?"

His eyes twinkled with amusement. "You know I do, cher."

"Fine." I rolled my eyes. "I'll speak to Evie. No promises."

Sam looked at me, suddenly a little shifty.

I groaned. "You already spoke to Evie, didn't you?"

"Pam did," he admitted sheepishly. "She misses you too."

My eyes nearly hit the back of my head. "Of course she does. Bloody Pam."

He made to get up. "Well, I think that's my cue to get back to work, don't you?"

I laughed. "Escape while Pam's in the bad books? Is that the plan?"

He ran a hand through his hair, the corner of his mouth tweaking up into a lop-sided grin. "Something like that."

I rose out of my seat and walked him to the door.

"Ooh," Sam exclaimed, reaching into his pocket, hovering by the front door. "I almost forgot to give you these."

I glanced at the three packets of cigarettes in his hand and then up at him, totally perplexed. "Um, Sam, I don't smoke. You know that."

He smiled. "I know that, but with rations being as they are, I thought you could trade them."

"I guess." I eyed them again. "But Sam, they're your cigarettes. I can't take them. I mean you should trade them."

He shrugged. "Consider them a thank you for all the wonderful lunches and dinners you've been making me lately. Please?"

I nodded reluctantly, making a bowl with my palms as he pressed them into my hands. "Okay. Um, thank you. Although you already bring me so much; I mean we had raisins last week and all that condensed milk."

Sam nodded. "You're welcome. And it's the least I can do. Really."

He glanced in the direction of the stairs and it occurred to me that I should probably get Rose up, if I didn't want her up all night.

"Well Sam, I'll see you soon."

He donned his hat and stepped out into the sunshine. "Take care, Sook."

He was halfway down the lane before it occurred to me that the cigarettes were Players - the same brand that Barry smoked.

0-0-0-0-0

"She's such a doll," Barry cooed as Rose tottered barefoot towards him. He placed his cards face down on the rug and she giggled delightedly when he pulled her into his arms and blew raspberries across her tummy.

I shook my head, amused. "You as well, huh? I swear I've never met a man yet my daughter couldn't wrap around her little finger." I turned over another card from the pack and groaned; I'd needed just one particular card for the last six turns.

He placed Rose gently back on her feet before picking up his hand and grinning gleefully as he collected the jack of diamonds that I had discarded. "Gin," he announced triumphantly.

"Oh for God's sake. That's the last four games," I whined, digging through the pack to find the elusive eight of spades. Two from the bottom: that about summed up my luck today.

"It's a good thing we're not playing for money," Barry crowed. "I'd own this cottage by now."

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his taunts. Next to me Rose landed on her bottom with a gentle thud, reaching for one of my cards and handing it to Barry.

"Thank you Rose," he chuckled, grinning smugly at me. "Let's hope you don't turn out to be a sore loser like your mother, ay? It's not attractive in a young lady."

I had to laugh at that. She was already quite the madam and certainly didn't like it when she didn't get her own way.

"One more?" Barry quirked his eyebrow at me. "To try and regain a little dignity?"

I reached across the rug to slap his arm playfully. "I might be a sore loser, but I'm certainly a more graceful winner than you, Horowitz."

Barry smirked. "And how would we know that exactly?"

"Oh hush," I replied, poking out my tongue.

The moment was interrupted by a knock at the front door. I glanced at Barry nervously.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Barry breathed, eyes suddenly wide with apprehension.

I shook my head, my heart thumping furiously. "I've already seen my aunt and uncle today. And Sam's not due for another hour or so." I scooped Rose up in my arms, pulling her tight to my chest, glancing down the stairwell. "It's probably nothing but you need to get up in the attic now. Bill's boxes are piled up in the corner. You know what to do."

I made my way across the landing as whomever it was knocked again, more urgently this time. "I'm coming, I'm coming," I shouted out, taking my time to get down the stairs as Barry shimmied up the rope ladder and carefully lowered the door over the attic opening.

With one final glance upstairs, I took a deep breath and opened the door to find Elsa on the porch step, her face twisted with worry.

"Hello?" I started, utterly confused as to why the little nurse was on my doorstep.

She forced a smile, and gestured to my hallway, asking to come in. I stepped back from the door, allowing her entrance, one ear listening out anxiously for any noise coming from the attic.

Rose started wriggling in my arms and I lowered her to the floor allowing her to toddle towards the sitting room, Elsa and I following slowly behind her. The nurse watched her pensively for a minute as I began to wonder if this visit had something to do with Eric? Had something happened to him?

I was just summoning up the courage to ask her when she turned to face me and began talking in insistent, rapid German that I had no hope of deciphering.

I held my hands up to her, starting to get distressed. It never occurred to me that Eric wouldn't be safe. What if he'd been transferred East like Tray?

Nausea began to pool in my stomach. "Slow down please… I don't… I'm sorry but I just don't understand. Is this about Eric?"

She kept repeating a word, again and again, making no sense until somehow it clicked. "Radio?" I asked, leading her to the kitchen and opening the doors to the kitchen cabinet that housed Bill's old wireless. We'd known for a while that the Germans were intent on confiscating wireless radios, to block off all contact with the mainland, so ours was hidden behind baking supplies and jars of marrows that Evie and I had pickled last summer. "What about the radio?"

Elsa nodded enthusiastically, clearly glad that I'd picked up the subject matter, if not her exact intention. She moved the food back in place, deliberately, closing the door firmly, looking at me and willing me to understand.

"Diese abend," she announced authoritatively, tapping her watch. "They come."

0-0-0-0-0

I opened the door to the cottage as Sam breezed into the hallway.

"Did you get your wireless hidden away?" I asked hopefully.

He smiled in confirmation. "I have a place in the pub—"

"Don't tell me." I held my hand up. "I don't need to know."

He nodded. "Your aunt and uncle?"

"Uncle Cope's putting theirs in with the chickens. I said that I'd find somewhere else, so we still had one between us if the other was found."

Sam eyed me carefully. "So you need me to help you hide it?"

I shook my head and looked away. "No... Actually, I need them to find it."

Sam looked at me for a moment, stunned, and then cursed loudly, running a hand over his hair. "I bloody knew it. Barry's here, isn't he?"

I nodded guiltily. "Yes."

"Where is he?" he demanded, his ruddy features flushing dark with concern. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. A little shaken up by all this but okay. He's in the attic, hidden away by boxes and all sorts of other stuff. It's a good hiding place but if they start going through this place with a fine tooth comb..."

"So we need them to find the radio so they don't search too hard?" Sam surmised.

"Yes." I whispered hoarsely, feeling my eyes brim with tears. "I'm sorry to involve you in this Sam but I didn't know what else to do..."

He shook his head. "I'm glad you did. I mean I had my suspicions but I wish you'd told me, you know, I could have helped. He's my friend too and you shouldn't have had to take this all on by yourself for all these months."

I nodded, glancing away. "I wanted to, I did. But I didn't tell anyone. I just thought it was safer that way."

He sighed in acceptance. "You're probably right. And you called me when you needed help, that's what counts."

"So what do we do now?" I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand and looked up at him.

Sam glanced around questioningly. "Where's Rose?"

I exhaled steadily. "I left her with Cope and Evie. Just in case. Told them that the idea of having the house ransacked again brought back bad memories of Bill and I didn't want Rose to see me upset."

"So they don't know?" He looked impressed.

I shook my head. "Like I said, I didn't tell anyone."

"Maybe, we could just move Barry?"

I sighed. "I thought of that but the question is where? There are so many soldiers everywhere. What if somebody sees him?"

He nodded, seemingly in agreement, and scanned the hallway pensively. Finally, he walked towards the sitting room. "If I were searching the house, I think I'd do this room first..."

I followed him and watched as he surveyed the space, his eyes falling on the large basket by the fire where we stored firewood. It was fairly empty as I hadn't lit the fire since the spring, but there were still about half a dozen dried logs inside carelessly piled up on one another.

Sam glanced up at me. "Here," he confirmed. "Go fetch the radio."

0-0-0-0-0

We'd been expecting it. But I still jumped when I heard the thumping at the door.

Sam and I exchanged a look of apprehension before he rose slowly from the kitchen table. We'd barely touched our dinner, sitting, silently waiting, in the half-light of the paraffin lamp. Leaving the plates where they lay, I followed him to the front door, my heart hammering violently in my chest.

Three Nazi soldiers stood on the doorstep, their dark uniforms melting into the darkness. I didn't recognise two of them but that was hardly surprising: there were as many soldiers as locals in St. Helier these days. The slightest of the three, a dark-haired man with small round eyes that were nearly black, introduced himself in broken English as Sergeant Mott. He didn't need to make the introduction, I knew who he was.

Mott: Pam's brute and the man who had murdered Bill.

Feeling a little dizzy, I focused on the black leather of his glove as he handed Sam an official-looking notice and strode over the threshold, not waiting to be invited in. Sam's eyes blazed at me, willing me to keep it together. He clearly recognised him too.

Mott seemed to be in charge of the search, and rattled off instructions to the others in his native tongue. I blanched, forcing myself to swallow down the bile that instantly amassed in my mouth, as one of the soldiers, a young thick-set Private with dirty blond hair, made his way towards the stairs. I glanced at Sam, immediately panicking. He gestured with his chin for me to stick with the Private headed upstairs before trailing behind Mott and the other soldier into the sitting room.

I had to grip the banister as I tramped up each step. My legs felt weak beneath me and my pulse was racing thick with adrenaline as I thought of Barry above me, cramped and terrified in his tiny hiding place. Clenching my fingernails into the palm of my hand, I focused on the pain, trying to calm myself, trying to regulate my breathing.

I could do this. I had to do this. For him.

The young Private was already searching the bathroom by the time I made it upstairs. He barely registered my presence as he pulled across the shower curtain, shining his torch, flicking the beam in and out of my bathroom cabinet. My cheeks flamed first with embarrassment and then anger as he emptied the laundry basket onto the floor, toeing the contents with his boot before storming arrogantly out onto the landing.

He flashed his torch around him. Light darted here and there, searching out hidden places. I felt my breath catch as the beam skimmed across the corner of the attic hatch before he redirected it, illuminating his way into the guest bedroom. Following him, I glanced tensely down the stairs. What was taking them so long in the sitting room?

The smell of camphor filled the room as he turned first to the spare wardrobe, stuffed full with winter clothes, and began rifling through. I studied his expression, trying to discern whether he had seen the attic door, but it was impassive, focused on the task at hand.

Again, my eyes shifted towards the open doorway. I began to worry: was Sam's chosen hiding place a little too hidden?

They were taking too long. I didn't want to chance this guy having a second sweep of the landing.

The young soldier was on his knees, searching under the bed, when I heard a triumphant cry from downstairs. I felt my body slump with relief as he exhaled angrily, clearly upset not to be the one that found anything, and pushed past me out of the room. Mott was already in the hallway when we made it downstairs, Bill's wireless set in the arms of his victorious underling.

Sam's jaw was set with tension, his eyes anxiously following Mott as the officer moved around the room. It suddenly occurred to me that we'd taken an awful risk allowing him to discover the radio. I'd been so rash. I'd assumed they would just want to confiscate the set but, really, that was based on no facts at all. What if he arrested us? What if they looked for more than one set? We had no idea what this man would do next. One look at Sam told me he knew all that but had allowed me to involve him in this anyway.

I shifted where I stood, waiting.

Sensing my unease, the Sergeant turned to face me. "I know you... from before."

I looked down at my feet, saying nothing. I could recall the night I'd met him as vividly as if it were yesterday. How scared I'd been. How relieved I'd been to see Eric. But if he remembered it, he'd make the link between me and Barry, and that was something I couldn't let him do.

Mott approached me, reaching across and taking my chin between thumb and forefinger, inspecting my face. "I think so. Yes."

I felt Sam tense across the other side of the room as the other soldiers watched us, quietly fascinated, waiting to see what their superior officer would do next.

I pressed my lips together, shaking my head firmly, not quite able to move freely as he gripped my jaw. "I don't know you."

His eyes narrowed, for just a moment, until finally he shrugged, releasing me. He gave his subordinate an almost imperceptible nod and the young soldier threw the wireless to the floor. It hit the corner of the rug with a heavy thud, but not enough to damage it. The Private cursed, disappointed, before bringing his boot down heavily on the dark paneling of the machine, once, twice, shattering the mahogany box into pieces on the floor. I couldn't stifle my gasp at the violence of it, my hands flying to my mouth. Sam moved to stand by me, gripping my hand in his, his body angled slightly in front of mine. The soldier ignored us, giving the shattered remains a kick for good measure before falling in behind Mott who had turned from the scene and was already making his way towards the front door.

The Gerries said nothing as they left, not even to each other. I slammed the front door behind them, turning the double lock, before sliding down onto the wood-splintered rug as my legs finally gave way underneath me.

0-0-0-0-0

"He'll be alright?" Sam asked, gesturing with his head to the attic. Barry had decided it was safer if he slept up there tonight, just in case the soldiers returned. I hadn't wanted to leave Barry there, particularly as he'd been so shaken and withdrawn when we'd given him the all clear, but I couldn't deny that it made a horrid kind of sense.

"He'll be fine. It's just... one minute we're laughing and joking..." I sighed, ushering Sam towards the front door. "He'll be fine."

Sam nodded, understanding. "He will... And so will you. We got through this."

I forced myself to brighten up. "You're right, Sam... And I just want to say thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you tonight."

"You don't need to thank me Sookie." He smiled fondly at me. "What you're doing, for Barry, well I think it's amazing... _You_ are amazing. It makes me love you more than I already do."

My eyes shot to his, my mouth gaping wide. For a second I wondered if I had misheard him but the look of determination on his face told me I'd understood perfectly.

My heart was suddenly racing, filling my cheeks with colour. "Sam, I… I don't know what to say."

He nodded calmly, as if anticipating that kind of vague response. "I don't think it's just me. There's something between us. There always has been."

"I can't totally deny that," I admitted softly, looking away. I wondered fleetingly what would have happened if Eric had never come to St. Helier? Would Sam have been the one I ended up with, rather than Bill? Pam had certainly always thought so.

But the fact was I had met Eric, and that had changed everything for me.

"Sam... I'm just not sure that you understand." I forced myself to meet his eye. He deserved that at least. "Something... Something is broken inside me and I'm not sure anyone can fix it... even you."

"I'd like to try," Sam murmured as he reached for my hand, curling his fingers in between mine. "I know that you're still grieving for Bill, Sookie. I know how sad you've been these last months. But I'm willing to wait, to give you the time you need... And I know there's an age gap between us, but, well, I'm not sure that things like that are so important any more. I just... I know that you don't need anything else on your mind but days like today show us that life's too short."

Something flickered through my mind. "And that offer to come back to work the other day?" I asked, tentatively.

He waved his hand in dismissal. "Completely no strings attached. I really do need someone. Although I can't deny that having you back at the Dog on a regular basis would make me very happy." His eyes were full of urgency, fixing my gaze to his. "I know in my heart that we could be good together, Sookie. Just think about it? Please?"

I nodded absent-mindedly. "I will. I just… well, you've taken me a little by surprise."

Sam gave me a knowing smile, running his thumb gently across my cheek. "I don't think that's entirely true."

I felt my skin blush even harder and I looked down at my feet.

He swept his fingers along my jaw to direct my gaze back towards him and I felt my stomach flutter at the heated look he gave me as my eyes met his.

Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward, brushing his lips softly against mine.

"To help you make up your mind," he whispered, before opening the door and making his way down the driveway.

**A/N: Phew! Remember the mantra, guys: "It's a Sookie and Eric story"! There's still a year and a bit of this war to go – that's all I'm saying… **

**As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. **


	20. Chapter 20 Evacuation

**A/N: So sorry about the epic failure surrounding the posting of the last chapter. This site really is utter shite sometimes. There was a bit of a difference between the one that went up initially and the chapter that was finally posted. I thought I'd mention it, just in case want to check back and see if you read the final version. I'm afraid Sam kissed Sookie whatever version you read though!**

**I just want to say thank you so much for all your support and reviews – particularly those of you who had to try more than once to leave a review for the last chapter. It really means a lot.**

**Okay – so hopefully this chapter will leave you all feeling a bit better about things... **

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. **

"**There is an immeasurable distance between late and too late."- Og Mandino**

**Eric – November/December 1943**

"Eric, this is General Wilheim Oster." My father beckoned me over to join him and gestured to a stocky, older man with a full white moustache, probably in his early fifties. "General, this is my son, Lieutenant Colonel Eric Northman."

I'd heard about the General by reputation, of course. If I remembered correctly, he'd been posted in Tunisia for the last couple of years; his face had the kind of deep suntan that you only acquired from year on year in that kind of climate.

"A pleasure, sir," I replied, saluting rather more casually than was custom. I noted fleetingly that the three glasses of champagne that I'd already downed to get me through the evening were beginning to kick in. Even so, I could still sense the tension between the General and my father. It was thick in the air.

The General's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ah, young Northman is it? I hear from your father that you've recently been put in charge of the Waffenämter. How are you finding it?"

I took a swig of my drink, enjoying the bubbles as they hit my tongue. "To be honest with you General, I'm finding it a little tedious."

My father shot me a look but the General just chuckled good-naturedly. "Prefer a bit of action do you?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir. That I do."

"And why not, ay? Young man like yourself just wants to get out there and kill some Bolsheviks, no doubt?" He proffered his coupe at the passing waiter, allowing it to be refilled, and then gestured with his head towards my glass, ignoring my father.

I tried to hide my smile, holding the crystal out for a top up. "Something like that, sir."

"Well I can't say I blame you. I'm only back because Herr Himmler ordered it so, otherwise I'd be quite happy out in the field until somebody had the good fortune to blow me up."

I knew better than to ask why he was back in Berlin; I was aware that our campaign in Africa had not been progressing according to plan and I wondered if he was taking part of the blame for that. I nodded politely while he and my father made further small talk. Scanning the room absent-mindedly as they discussed some colleague or other, my eyes lingered on the huge chandeliers and historical works of art, their opulence marred only slightly by the presence of giant sandbags piled up against each of the large oriel windows.

After a moment the General turned to me again.

"So tell me, are you a Party man, Colonel?" He canted his head to the side, curiously.

My father glanced warily at me, interjecting before I had a chance to open my mouth. "Eric has only been back in Berlin for a short time, Wili, but I have no doubt he will—"

"Is that so?" The corner of Oster's mouth tweaked up into an amused smirk. "No time, ay?"

"I'm a soldier, sir," I replied cautiously, trying to be diplomatic. Despite my father's constant entreaties, there was no way I was joining the NSDAP, career be damned. But the General was a powerful man and I had no desire to offend him, there being every chance that he was a member himself. "And well, I've never had much interest in politics."

I could feel my father tense beside me but the General's smirk turned into a full smile. "Sensible lad," he guffawed, clapping me over the back.

We heard the clatter of the gong, announcing that dinner was served. Oster glanced my way.

"You come sit by me, young Northman," he muttered conspiratorially. "These things are notoriously dull. I think you might just keep me entertained. That's if Friedrich can spare you, of course?"

My eyes darted to my father and I could practically see the wheels turning in his mind. He nodded tightly before excusing himself and making his way across the room towards another acquaintance, leaving me to take my seat next to the General at the long mahogany table.

Oster's head bobbed around, looking for a waiter. Catching someone's eye, he flicked his finger back and forth between our glasses and they were immediately topped up.

"Not much champagne in Tunisia, I expect," I suggested with a grin, proffering my glass in an irreverent toast before taking a swig.

"Even less than there was in the Channel Islands, I'd wager," he laughed.

I raised my eyebrow. "You know that I was posted to Jersey?"

He gave me a pointed look. "I make it my business to know things, young Northman. Especially when they might be useful to me."

I narrowed my eyes, blinking twice in an effort to clear the fuzz in my head. "Just _how_ did you say that you knew my father, General?"

He smiled knowingly. "I heard that you were a smart one. Makes sense, I suppose… To answer your question, Friedrich and I went to military school together." He looked away, smoothing his napkin over his lap. "In fact, I knew your mother even before that."

"My mother?" I frowned, confused now. "Really? She never mentioned you."

"Yes, well, I guess she wouldn't have." He turned his head towards the doorway, clapping his hands together jovially. "Ah, the appetisers. One good thing about being in Berlin, ay Northman? The food's a hell of a lot better."

I nodded, still perplexed about the direction in which our conversation had headed. "Yes, sir. I guess that's one good thing."

0-0-0-0-0

I approached the young nurse on the front desk. She looked up, catching my eye.

"Dauschen, Captain Tray Dauschen," I demanded sharply, resolutely ignoring her coy smile. "I was sent word that he was here."

The heavy smell of disinfectant was already pervading my senses and I tried not to breathe through my nose as she flipped, slightly flustered, through page after page of patient records. I rapped my fingers on the counter impatiently until finally she found him.

"Ah yes. Dauschen." She looked up, triumphantly. "He's on B Ward, Colonel."

Muttering a quick thank you, I hurried down the dark, airless corridor towards the ward. I hadn't been told anything about Tray's condition except that he was injured, and I could feel my heart pumping in both expectation and apprehension.

B Ward was dimly lit, with only a small reading lamp on beside the odd patient bed, and eerily quiet. I peered down over the rows of beds, twelve each side, trying to identify Tray amongst the multitude of injured men trussed up in woollen blankets.

"Can I help you, sir?"

I turned to face the ward sister, a solid woman with dark brown hair who looked to be in her early forties. She was wearing a no-nonsense expression but her eyes were kind. Tired but kind.

"Yes," I whispered. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Northman. I'm here to see one of my men. Captain Dauschen?"

She smiled, her cheeks dimpling slightly and making her look much younger. "Oh yes. He's expecting you, Colonel. Follow me."

The sister led me past bed after bed, some soldiers sleeping fitfully, others following me with their eyes as I passed, their expressions weary and blank. I found myself forcing out steady breaths as I took in the injuries of the servicemen I slipped past. Eight pews down, the nurse came to a halt, gesturing towards the bed on the left.

"I'll leave you to have some privacy," she murmured kindly, before starting to draw the curtain around us.

I looked at her blankly before looking back at the strange man in the bed, frowning with confusion.

"Fuck Eric, do I look that different?" A hoarse voice asked, sounding amused but also a little put out.

Tray's voice.

I tried to hold in the gasp that formed in my throat, coughing instead as my eyes raked over him. Previously a huge hulk of a man, he had to be half the size now. It was impossible to say, but he was certainly painfully thin. His face was tight and drawn, making him look ten years older than the last time I saw him, and that wasn't helped by the large patches of grey hair dusting around his temples. But the smile was still there, I realised: open, not quite as care-free as it once was, but unmistakably Tray's.

"Oh my God," I rasped, my throat closing with emotion. I grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "It's so good to see you."

Tray gave me a wry smile, propping himself up on his elbow. "You mean now that you recognise me?"

I slumped into the wooden chair by his bed, not letting go of his hand. "In my defence, the last time I saw you, you couldn't even get your uniform done up," I smirked.

He chuckled. "What I wouldn't give for a bit of Evie's cooking right now… Wait, you didn't bring me anything? God the food in here is shit. And this is coming from a man who three months ago would have been happy with grilled rat for lunch."

I shook my head sheepishly. "I didn't think about food. I dropped everything as soon as I got word. I'll bring supplies next time. To be honest, I wasn't sure what shape you'd be in…" I scanned his body surreptitiously, looking for obvious signs of injury. And then it struck me.

I felt the nausea rise, bitter in my throat. Tray's eyes met mine and his jovial expression disappeared instantly.

"You got... shot?" I stammered, staring aghast at the space where his right leg was supposed to be.

Tray snorted bitterly. "Nothing so heroic, I'm afraid. Frostbite, blood poisoning. You get the idea. Not one of my life's most pleasant experiences."

I had no idea what to say. "Tray, I'm so sor—"

He waved his hand dismissively, dropping mine in the space between us. "Don't be. I'm a hell of a lot better off than a lot of the poor bastards out there. At least I made it home. And I got to have morphine." He smiled dreamily. "That stuff is a lot of fun."

"I bet," I agreed, forcing a smile, trying to focus on his face rather than the concave under the blankets. "But are you... are you okay?"

Tray shrugged. "I'm not in any pain if that's what you mean."

"And apart from that?"

"I don't know..." He frowned. "But I will be. I think I will be."

I nodded, proud of my friend and his relentless spirit and just so grateful that I had him back. "So, how long will you be here at Beelitz?" The hospital was just outside the city, which meant that I could visit him regularly, but I was fairly sure he'd want to get to Bavaria as soon as possible.

"Well, they're going to fit me with my own special metal limb. Everything's healing up nicely, so that should be in the next couple of days. Then I've just got to learn how to walk again…" He shrugged as if that were nothing. "I reckon I should be back home in a couple of months. I used to think that was the most boring life on earth. I wanted adventure, to see the world. But now, now I can hardly wait to be back there milking cows."

"Have you written to your mother?" I asked tentatively.

He sighed. "I didn't tell her everything. I don't want her coming to Berlin. She's safer where she is and, anyway, she's needed on the farm."

I nodded in understanding. Over the last couple of weeks, we'd undergone the worst bombing campaign of the war so far. The capital had literally been decimated, with thousands killed and probably hundreds of thousands turned out of their homes. Those who didn't have essential jobs had been told to evacuate. I wouldn't want anyone I loved in the city either.

"Anyway, forget about my damned leg. Tell me, what's been happening with you?" Tray asked. "When did you leave Jersey?"

I shrugged. "About a year ago now."

"Huh. I never figured you'd come back to Berlin? Not if you could avoid it."

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Things change, I guess... I got a promotion."

His nose wrinkled, sceptically: Tray knew full well that kind of nonsense meant very little to me. "So I heard. Congratulations Colonel."

I smiled sheepishly. "Thanks."

Tray frowned. "Is everything… was everything all right there? On Jersey when you left?"

Everything was far from all right when I left but I had a sneaking suspicion that he was enquiring after someone in particular. "As far as I'm aware, Amelia is doing fine," I assured him with a smile. "I have a friend, a nurse, who is staying with the Broadways now. She keeps me updated as much as she can. You know my father."

Tray nodded in understanding and then smiled contentedly. "That's good. And Sookie?" he asked pointedly. "Is she good too?"

I sighed. I hadn't wanted to get into this now. Not here with two dozen pairs of ears in listening distance. "Sookie had a baby," I said, keeping my voice low. "Her name is Rose. She'll be two in June."

Tray's eyes darted to mine, his expression full of questions unsaid.

"Yes," I whispered, my eyes dipping to my lap.

I could feel that he was about to say something but I held my hand up. "Another time, okay? You need some rest. I'll come see you again on Tuesday. Maybe they'll let me wheel you out for some fresh air?"

He nodded in acquiescence. "Maybe."

I made to get up, grasping his hand again and leaning over the bed to hug him. It was so strange being able to feel his bones through his pyjamas but his grip was still strong.

"Answer me one thing Eric?" he whispered in my ear as he pulled me towards him. "If Sookie and your daughter are in Jersey, what the fuck are you doing in Berlin?"

Tray's words played in my mind over and over again as I made my way back into the city. I slammed the door as I entered my office, making it clear that I didn't wish to be disturbed. Pouring myself a brandy, I sank limply into the chair behind my desk.

Two hours since I had left the hospital and I still had absolutely no answer to his question.

0-0-0-0-0

"Everything okay?" Ingrid asked, brushing her hand gently over my arm.

I forced a smile, fiddling with my napkin. "Sure."

"Really?" she asked sceptically. "Because you've been completely distracted the last couple of times I've seen you. And you almost tore the head off of that poor waiter."

I sighed. "I'm fine, Ing. I've just got a lot going on at the moment. I guess I'm a bit tired but it's nothing."

She pursed her lips for a moment, and I knew she was wondering whether or not to let it go. Finally she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

I looked out across the crowded dining room, full of servicemen and their sweethearts, my eyes fixing on the back of a huge man, with strawberry blond hair, his stance one that I recognised only to well.

"LeBrecht?" I called out, hedging my bets as to which one of them it was.

The figure turned around, and I saw it was Sigebert, his features instantly lighting up when he recognised me. "Major Northman?"

I smiled standing up to greet him. "Actually it's Lieutenant Colonel Northman now."

He saluted exaggeratedly. "My apologies Colonel."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was hard to be too authoritative with someone that you had known since before you could shave. I looked over to Ingrid, who was watching the exchange in fascination.

"Sorry," I said, taking my seat again, realising I had neglected to make introductions. "Sergeant, this is my friend Ingrid Schwarz. Ing, this is Sergeant LeBrecht."

Ingrid and Sigebert, shook hands politely before he gestured to one of the soldiers at a neighbouring table, stealing a chair and pulling it up against our table. I poured him some wine into my empty water glass and he took it appreciatively.

Ingrid leaned over to me, her lips brushing against my ear. "I'm going to powder my nose. Give you boys a moment to talk."

I nodded gratefully, giving her hand a squeeze and watching after her as she left the table. Sigebert raised an eyebrow at me as soon as I turned my attention back to him.

"She's beautiful," he ventured, holding back a smirk.

"She is," I answered cautiously, my body language making it clear that I didn't want to talk about Ingrid with him. He took a further swig of his drink, staying silent, apparently picking up on my unspoken warning.

"So, what are you doing here?" I enquired, feigning enthusiasm.

"Five day's leave," he shrugged. "I haven't seen my family in three years and, anyway, I wanted to come and see what they've done to the city." He sighed. "I can't believe what a mess those bastards have made."

I nodded. "I know. It's a shock for me and I've been here while it was happening."

Sigebert gave me a pensive smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Eric. We all wondered if you'd made it through."

I looked away, feeling a little uncomfortable, not used to having these kind of conversations with either of the twins. Only once had Sigebert and I discussed anything of any kind of depth: over five years ago, when Sophie-Anne died. Feelings were even less of his thing than they were mine.

I tried to change the subject. "You know I've seen Captain Dauschen a few times. He's at Beelitz."

His smile grew, lighting his eyes. "He's alive? God, I thought for sure he would have kicked it."

I nodded solemnly. "I know. If I'm honest I did too, most of the time."

"He's injured though?" he asked, the fact that Tray was in hospital finally sinking in.

I took a careful sip of my wine. "He lost a leg," I replied stiffly. "Other than that, he seems okay."

"Fuck. Poor bastard." Sigebert's eyes went wide. "God, if that happened to me... I think I'd rather just be put out of my misery."

"He's alive. That's the important thing." I glared at him.

He cleared his throat. "Of course. I didn't mean..."

I ignored his token apology as my eyes scanned the room. "What about your brother? Is he here too?"

He shook his head disappointedly. "He thought he might get some leave next month but with what happened with Andre, who knows? I think I got mine approved just in time."

I frowned, confused. "Andre?"

"I thought your father would have told you?" It was his turn to look perplexed.

I shook my head. "I haven't seen him for a couple of days," I ventured carefully. "Told me what?"

"Andre's dead, Eric," he disclosed with a sigh. "They think it was his liver. It just packed up on him. Apparently he's been ill for a while."

I blew out a cool breath, trying to calm myself from the shock of the news. I rubbed the back of my neck, easing the tension in the muscles that had instantly bunched there. "Jesus. I always said that he'd drink himself to death but I didn't really..."

"I know. It was a fucking shock but then again, it wasn't."

Something occurred to me then. "Who've they got in charge then?"

He rolled his eyes. "Colonel Beck sent over his second-in-command until they work out who will replace Andre. Some fool named Eisenberg."

I grimaced. "I remember him from St Peter Port. The guy's an idiot."

"You got that right."

"It's strange," I contemplated. "All this going on around us, you forget that people just die. No bombs, no bullets. They just die."

We were silent for a moment as my mind raced through the ramifications of Andre's death. I truly hadn't seen my father for a couple of days but I was still surprised that he hadn't sought me out to tell me this news about his friend. Andre was a hard man, there was no doubt about that, and, after my time in Jersey, I certainly didn't mourn his death. But he could generally be reasoned with. I knew from experience that there were plenty worse out there than him. My impression of Eisenberg was that he was weak, a buffoon, and sometimes weak men could be the worst of all.

"My mother said you've been to visit her a few times." Sigebert interrupted my thoughts.

I shrugged distractedly. "She was always good to me. I thought it was the least I could do."

"Well thank you. It's good for us to know that someone is keeping an eye on her."

I gave him a smile of acknowledgement as I noticed Ingrid weaving her way back to the table. He followed my gaze and then smiled knowingly at me. "I think I'll leave you and the pretty blonde to it."

I nodded as he made to get up. "Try not to get yourself killed, Sergeant."

"You too, Colonel. You too."

0-0-0-0-0

"Eric," General Oster welcomed me warmly, rising from his chair as I entered his office. "It's good to see you. Although I was under the impression that we were dining on Thursday? Did I get my days wrong?"

"Hello, sir. No, no, we were down for Thursday. I'm actually here on army business." I gestured to the blood red leather chair in front of his desk, seeking permission, and he nodded.

"Of course. Please take a seat."

I sat down, removing my hat. "So…"

Oster regarded me with curiosity. "So?"

"You'll have heard that Colonel Paulinz is dead?" I asked, knowing for sure that he would have.

The General frowned. "Yes. Terrible shame that. I can't say I knew the Colonel very well but he was well-respected… I hear he was a close friend of your father's."

I nodded. "He was."

We sat there for a moment, silently, as I formulated my next words.

He beat me to it. "Forgive me for being blunt Eric, but what does the Colonel's death have to do with me?"

I decided to bite the bullet and just come out with it. "Well the thing is, I'd like to be posted back to Jersey."

"Ah, I see." Oster raised an eyebrow at me. "Why haven't you asked your father for this? He has as much influence as I do. More, in certain circles."

I shrugged. "I know that he would say no to anything that took me out of Berlin."

"And you think that I would say yes?" he countered. "Because we have become friends?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "But I thought it couldn't hurt to ask."

He sighed. "You're well thought of Eric, a rising star even. But you've only just been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. You're not senior enough for Paulinz's job."

I nodded; I'd thought of this already. "But my experience in Jersey surely works in my favour. You must have an incompetent senior officer somewhere that needs shipping off. I could go as back-up."

"So it's not the power you're after," he mused, almost to himself.

I shook my head, meeting his eye. "I have to get out of Berlin, sir. I just… I thought coming back would help. I thought I could do it but it's not my home any more." I tried not to even think of Sookie and Rose, to block them from my mind, but the thought of being able to see them again was intoxicating now there was some chance it might happen.

He eyed me cautiously but I could tell from his expression that I'd hit a nerve. "If I did this for you, I would make an enemy of your father. You realise that?"

I smiled cautiously. "Something tells me that this would not be a new state of affairs."

In fact, I was fairly certain that he would actually delight in aggravating my father. I'd been counting on that, rather than the tentative friendship we'd building over the last few weeks.

"True," he pursed his lips, withholding a smile. He was silent for a moment, thinking things through. "And you would agree to further my interests in the Channel Islands? Be my eyes and ears, as it were."

And there it was: the price. It was a dangerous gamble. I had no real idea what kind of man Oster was, or what he would want from me as part of this bargain, but could he really be any worse than my father? Only time would tell.

I nodded. "I would."

Oster sighed, leaning back in his chair, and finally nodded. "Okay, young Northman. You have a deal."

**Sookie – January 1944**

"Here, let me help you with that, Sook." Sam reached out, taking the heavy tray of glasses out of my hand and manoeuvring it towards the left side of the bar.

"Thanks," I whispered shyly, withdrawing my arm quickly as his fingers grazed over mine.

Sam's gaze darted to my hand and then up to meet my eyes and I glanced away, my face filling with colour. I stood there, hesitating for a moment, dry-mouthed, willing myself to say something, anything, but nothing came out. It was as if I were pinioned to the spot, silent and awkward. I could almost feel the energy coming off Sam, knowing that he was about to speak, and my shoulders slumped with relief as I heard Andy Bellefleur call out to me from across the room, waving his empty pint glass.

"I'll just see to Andy and then I'll sort those glasses," I mumbled, my words lost in the clamour of voices that filled the pub, looking down at my feet as I made my way towards the other side of the bar.

Absently, I refilled Andy's glass, propping it on the bar. Pam wove in beside me as I took his money, leaning over to access the bitter pump.

"Well, that wasn't at all uncomfortable," she whispered, a little too gleefully.

I glanced at her, my cheeks now burning, horrified at the realisation that someone had noticed my exchange with Sam.

Pam's expression softened slightly at the sight of my obvious distress. She shook her head. "Don't worry. No one else saw. Only me."

I sighed, relieved. "This is a nightmare," I hissed under my breath. "I should never have come back to bloody work."

Pam made change for her customer and then turned her attention to me. "I think the issue may be more to do with Sam confessing his undying love, don't you? It's his own bloody fault. He should have known that you're just not interested."

I stole a look at Sam, who was leaning over the bar and talking to Calvin. I could tell from his posture that he was tense, not quite fully participating in the conversation. As if feeling my eyes on him, he turned his head and I glanced away before he could make eye contact.

"It's not even that…" I admitted, turning my attention back to Pam with a defeated sigh.

Pam's eyes went wide, just for a second, before she grabbed my wrist and pulled me, gently but firmly, through the back of the bar towards the store cupboard.

"Sam. Sookie and I are taking a break," she hollered, as he watched after us, bewildered.

She wedged the cupboard door shut behind us, taking a seat on one of the bottle crates as I leaned up against the far wall. "So you do actually like him then?"

I exhaled heavily. "I don't know… Maybe."

"So why the reluctance?" Pam's head tilted to one side. "You've been avoiding talking to him properly for weeks now. Ever since he confessed his feelings."

I slumped down against the wall, until my bottom hit the ground. "I know. I feel awful. I just… I wanted to talk to him but I didn't know what to say." I ran my hands over my face, frustrated with myself. "I just don't think I'm ready Pam. To do that again."

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me as she smoothed her skirt over her knees. "Is this because of the Gerry still?"

I sighed, closing my eyes in reaction to the mention of Eric. "In part," I admitted softly. "I can't just forget about him, Pam. I loved him with all my heart. I still do. That doesn't just go away because he's not here… But also it's about me. After Eric and all that happened with Bill. I think maybe that I'm just better off on my own."

Pam shrugged. "It's your decision Sookie but I will say that you won't be disrespecting anyone's memory by seeing where things lead with Sam. And Eric is gone. He's not coming back." The next part of her argument hung in the air for a second, unsaid. We both knew what had been happening to Berlin: there was every chance he could be dead. "You need to start thinking about the future and what kind of life you want for you, and for Rose."

"I know that," I replied. It wasn't like I had fooled myself into thinking that he was coming back, even if I did refuse to believe that he'd come to any harm. "It's just hard, you know?"

Pam's smile was full of sympathy. "I know."

"And Sam's my friend, Pam. If I do this, I need to be sure."

She sighed. "He is your friend but he's not going to be for much longer if you don't talk to him… Look Sookie, if you don't feel ready yet, then tell that to Sam. He's a gent, one of the best. He'll give you all the time you need or take things as slow as you want – you've just got to ask him. But if you think that you could have feelings for him, I think you owe it to yourself to give it a try, friends or not."

I nodded, knowing there was some wisdom in what she was saying.

Pam pushed herself elegantly to her feet. "I should get back behind the bar. Sam's probably having kittens by now."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

"Take a minute if you need to," she assured me.

"Thanks Pam," I whispered, nodding gratefully. "I'll be out in just a minute."

0-0-0-0-0

I made my way up the driveway towards the cottage. My basket was empty except for two tins of tinned pears that I'd managed to swap for a pack of cigarettes and the promise of some butter. There'd been hardly anything to buy in town: no soap or cleaning products at all, both of which I desperately needed. Luckily, I was still getting most of my food from the farm but even that was becoming a struggle, the Germans having upped their requirements in recent months and confiscating the large percentage of my uncle's chickens and livestock. I was relying more and more on Bill's black market connections to buy the things we needed but prices were rocketing to the point that even that was looking less and less like an option. The thought of getting through another winter of occupation with an extra, secret mouth to feed was daunting to say the least.

As the cottage came into view, I noticed the dark shape of someone sitting on my doorstep. I squinted, the sunlight bright despite the frost in the air, and realised that it was Sam.

"Hello Sam," I said, my voice shakier than I had intended as I tried to overcome the tension I felt as I approached him. I still hadn't had a chance to speak to him, although increasingly our 'situation' was all I seemed to be thinking about.

"Hello cher." He got to his feet, rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold, and his eyes met mine, full of resignation and a little sadness; I felt my stomach dip with guilt, knowing that I was the reason for it.

"You must be freezing, sat out here," I breezed, the white fog of my breath seemingly there to demonstrate the validity of my assertion.

He stamped his feet against the path in an effort to get his circulation going. "I um, tried the back door but it was locked."

I shrugged apologetically. "I'm trying to be a bit more careful. With Barry, you know."

He nodded in acceptance as the conversation lapsed into silence. Feeling self-conscious, I began fiddling with a piece of wicker that had come loose on the basket, wracking my brains for something else to say.

"So where's Rose?" he asked finally.

Rose. I could talk about Rose. "I left her with Evie while I went shopping. She's at that age now, that it's almost impossible to get anything done with her around, you know? She'd be pulling things off the shelves left and right... If there was actually anything on the shelves of course."

Sam smiled and, even though it was forced, it made me feel a little better.

"Um, so, would you like to come in?" I asked hesitatingly, pulling my key from the basket.

Sam shook his head reluctantly. "Thank you but I won't... I don't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding," I replied, a touch too quickly. "And you haven't seen Barry for a while," I added, as his eyes met mine again.

He sighed. "Look, I just came here to say something and then… I'll come back and visit Barry some other time?"

"Okay." I nodded, instantly nervous. I had thought over and over about his declaration of love and how I felt about it, and yet I still didn't know how I'd respond if he repeated it now.

Sam closed his eyes for a second, marshalling his thoughts. "Look, I hate the way things have gone between us—"

"I do too," I breathed, so grateful that he had said it first. "I want you to—"

"Please let me just say this. While I can," he interrupted, raising his palm as the words died on my lips. "I should never have said what I did, Sookie. I would never have opened my mouth, if I'd thought for one minute that it would jeopardise our friendship like it has. Forget about all the other stuff: it's killing me, this awkwardness between us. It's not what I ever wanted. I just want to get back to what we had before."

I looked up at him, my vision blurry with tears, and in that moment I knew that I owed it to myself to try and move forward. I felt my stomach roll with waves of emotion and, this time, it wasn't fear or embarrassment: it was disappointment. Disappointment at the thought of going back to being friends and nothing else. I wasn't sure that I was ready yet for a romantic relationship, if I ever would be, but I cared about Sam and I was attracted to him, so what was holding me back from trying?

I knew the answer to that. The same one-word answer that had been responsible for all the euphoric highs and exquisite heartache that I'd known since the Gerries had invaded and brought him into my life.

Eric.

My feelings for Eric were holding me back. But he wasn't coming back to Jersey and I could no longer allow what I felt for Eric to interfere with what I might be able to have, one day, with Sam. It wasn't fair on me and it certainly wasn't fair on Sam.

I took a breath, knowing that if I didn't speak up now, Sam would never again pursue anything but friendship with me. It wasn't just that he was a gentleman, he was also proud; I knew that he would never attempt to force his affections where they were unwanted. It was why he had kept his feelings quiet for as long as he had.

"I don't want there to be any awkwardness between us either, Sam. I'm sorry that I've acted like this. I was just... scared. I don't know if I have it in me to move on—"

"I know, Sook." Sam grabbed my hand in his, his features scarred with disappointment. "And that's fine. It really is. I'm so sorry that I put pressure on you. It was selfish on my part—"

"No Sam, you don't understand," I interrupted, smiling through my tears. "I don't know how to move on but I would like to try..."

Sam's eyes shot to mine and I felt myself flush at the intensity of his gaze, my cheeks burning against the cold of the winter air.

"If you'll help me," I added timidly. I squeezed his fingers. Yes.

Sam's eyes bored into mine as if searching for confirmation, little tributaries forming at the sides of his eyes. I'd always loved those little creases, which only added the kindness of his face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked.

I nodded shyly, biting my lip nervously. "I need to take it slow," I whispered. "I mean it when I say that I might not be ready."

Sam took my face in his hands, running his thumb over my cheekbone and wiping away the tears that had gathered there. "We'll take it as slow as you want. I promise."

I took another deep breath. "Then yes. I want to try this."

A huge care-free grin spread across his face, lighting him up, and I couldn't help but beam in response."God Sook, you've made me so happy." He pulled me to him, hugging me into his chest.

I nodded against his coat, enjoying the warmth of him, the feeling of just being held. Finally I pulled back, eyeing him playfully. "So now that we've laid it all on the line... what happens now?"

Sam chuckled, taking my hand in his again. "Well, first, how about we put the kettle on and warm up. And then I want to take you out. Officially. How about this Sunday?"

"Sounds good," I agreed. His enthusiasm was infectious and I felt myself glow as I opened the front door to the cottage, welcoming him in.

Sam's hand closed over mine on the doorknob, stilling my progress, and he leaned in towards me. "Perhaps before we see Barry...?"

I nodded, unable to move, unsure whether he was referring to our conversation or the fact that he wanted to kiss me. But then he took a step back, releasing my hand, and I tried not to be too disappointed that he was apparently taking seriously my request to go slow.

"So, Sunday..." I ventured.

Sam snorted. "Well, I would take you out for a drink but…"

I laughed. "But you're right, that doesn't really work so well for us."

"We both spend enough time in that Godforsaken pub as it is," he joked. "And the longer we keep off Arlene's radar, the better."

"The cinema's out," I ventured disappointedly.

"Well, unless you enjoy propaganda served with your popcorn."

"Maybe a walk then?" I suggested shyly. "We could wrap up warm and take a stroll along the beach. I could make us something warm to take along."

He smiled. "Sounds like a plan." He looked down at his feet for a second and then back up at me, hesitatingly. "And if you wanted to bring Rose with us too…"

I felt my insides warm that he had thought of her, that he was willing to include her, but shook my head. "No," I whispered, feeling timid again as his thumb grazed over my knuckles. "It should be just us."

Sam's face broke out into a wide grin as he ran a flustered hand through his sandy hair. "It's a date then."

I nodded. "It's a date."

0-0-0-0-0

I blotted the second coat of my lipstick, dusting it over with powder. Bill had bought me a bottle of French perfume when we got married. I only wore it for special occasions but I figured this qualified, so I dabbed it lightly on my wrists and behind my ears before replacing the glass stopper. I hadn't had a new winter coat since before the war and, if truth be told, it was starting to look a little shabby but I had patched up those areas where the fabric was wearing thin and sponged it down so that it looked a little fresher. When I took a step back from the mirror and took my good green hat from the box, pinning it in place, I knew that I looked good.

I glanced over at the clock on the bedside table: I had ten minutes until Sam was due to collect me from the farm. I didn't want to let him arrive without me there and be subject to interrogation by Uncle Cope, or worse still, Evie. So, after stashing the rouge and my powder compact in my handbag, I leant over to pick Rose up from her cot, propping her on my hip, and hurried excitedly down the stairs shouting a goodbye to Barry as I went.

Opening the front door, I stopped dead, gasping at the sight of the Gerry officer on the other side of the threshold, hand raised, poised to knock. I took a step back reflexively, stunned as he looked up and I glimpsed his face.

"It can't be," I whispered, unable to take my eyes of him, just in case it was my imagination and he'd disappear again, off into the ether.

"Sookie," he whispered, reaching out to me.

"Oh my God," I choked, tears welling in my eyes. "Eric."

**A/N: I told you it was an Eric and Sookie story! I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please review if you can.**

**Also I should do one final pimp for the I Write the Songs contest. My story has been shortlisted to the judges' top ten picks and the public voting is now open. The Olympics have come to my city this week so, in the interests of good sportsmanship, I would urge you read all ten entries and vote for your favourite two. Thanks so much for all those who have already read, reviewed and voted.**


	21. Chapter 21 Explosion

**A/N: As I've said a few times before, I've always known how this story was supposed to go and have pretty much had it planned out chapter by chapter since the start (which feels about fifty years ago now!) That said, your comments on the last chapter were incredibly inspiring when trying to work out the detail of this chapter. You always give me such great ideas, moral dilemmas, and truly do help me to shape the story. So thank you all so much.**

**This chapter is for Ms Buffi's birthday - I tried really hard to get it out on time, so enjoy!**

**Charlaine Harris owns the rights to these characters. **

"**If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms shuttered and dank." Joss Whedon, David Tyron King**

**Sookie – January 1944**

"Hello Sookie." The timbre of Eric's voice was tentative, as if he were testing for my reaction; it felt like long fingers snaking out towards my heart and squeezing it tight.

There were so many thoughts and emotions going through my mind that I couldn't even respond. I just stood there, on the doorstep, mouth gaping, until I noticed him staring at Rose, who was still perched on my hip.

"She's grown so big," he whispered hoarsely, reaching out to touch her cheek which was blotchy and red from where she had been teething.

"A year will do that to a child," I snapped, stepping back into the sanctuary of the cottage's dark hallway. I honestly hadn't known what emotion would win the battle inside me, gain clarity first, but as I felt my shoulders bristling I realised that it was anger. Even as my heart ached to touch him, I was angry at him for leaving the way he did. Angry for me and angry for Rose.

"Sookie, I—" He paused for a moment, startled by the glare I had fixed him with, and sighed disappointedly. "Can we just talk please? Can I come in?"

With anger came lucidity as I realised both where I was and where I was going. I glanced furtively behind me, up the stairs, wondering if Barry had heard any of the exchange.

"Actually," I replied softly, stepping out of the house and pulling the front door firmly behind me. "I was on my way out."

Eric's eyes drifted over me then, taking in my appearance, noting the hat and the rouge. He frowned in confusion before schooling his features into something more impassive. I knew this wasn't how he had expected this conversation to go. I had imagined it a thousand times myself and never once did it involve me seething on my doorstep, on my way to a date with another man.

"You're going out?" he asked carefully.

"Yes."

"Who with?" He couldn't control the hurt that crept into his eyes and I was instantly torn between throwing my arms around him, promising that I wouldn't go, and slapping him hard for daring to think that he still had any say after leaving me for a year.

"Eric," I warned. He didn't have the right to ask that question; I was almost sure that he didn't.

He nodded in understanding, taking a step back and collecting himself again. "We still need to talk, Sookie," he said, his voice distant now, hiding any sign of dashed hopes. I'd forgotten how good he was at controlling his emotions when he needed to. So much more skilled than me. "Can I come back tonight?"

"Um, I don't think that's a good idea," I ventured nervously, thinking again about Barry.

Eric frowned. "Seriously? You won't even talk to me?"

"No, I just…" My voice was flustered, shaky. "Not in the house, okay?"

He sighed in acceptance. "Well, I'm living at the Bellefleurs, so that's out…"

"We could meet in Copley's shed? Say ten tonight?" I suggested.

He nodded and then glanced longingly at Rose.

I felt my stomach tighten guiltily and shook my head. "No, she'll be in bed by then."

Eric's eyes met mine, so intensely sad and cerulean blue that I had to remind myself to breathe. "Of course. Another time…"

I looked away, suddenly remembering that I was late and Sam was waiting for me, probably being subjected to a Gestapo-style inquisition from Evie.

"Eric," I sighed. "I'm sorry but I've—"

"You've got to go," he finished resignedly.

I nodded. "I'll see you tonight though, okay?"

He forced a smile, looking down at Rose and brushing one of her messy curls under her bonnet. "Until tonight."

0-0-0-0-0

"So that's how Pam ended up working for me. Or should I say I ended up working for Pam," Sam explained with a chuckle. "She just wouldn't take no for an answer."

"I can well believe it." I laughed, swinging my legs back and forward under the bench and looking out over the cliffs.

"She was a real pain. Still, I won't pretend that I could run the Dog without her now."

I smiled absent-mindedly. The sea was a muddy grey today, sullen and foreboding, and it made me think of all the lives that body of water had taken in this war and the last. Was Jason out there somewhere, still fighting, or had a different sea taken him too?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Sam's smile was gentle as he proffered the Thermos flask at me and poured another serving of leek and potato soup into my cup.

I took a sip, enjoying its hearty warmth, as he wedged the flask back in between our hips. "It's nothing," I sighed, realising that, not for the first time this afternoon, my mind had gone wandering onto other things.

Sam raised his brow sceptically. He'd noticed it too.

I gave him a sad smile. "Well, actually, I was just thinking about Jason." It was true. At that moment, I had been.

Sam nodded solemnly. "You must really worry about him."

I nodded. "I do. And yet, I almost don't even miss him any more. I feel so guilty sometimes about that. If _I_ don't miss him, who will, you know? But he's been gone so long that you start to forget things... God, that must sound terrible."

He shook his head. "It doesn't, at all. It actually sounds completely reasonable to me." He took a final swig of his soup, finishing it, and peered into the bottom of his cup as if trying to make more materialise by sheer force of will. "I remember last time, you know. My uncle, you probably don't remember him..." He glanced at me sideways, a question.

"I do." I smiled in confirmation. "He was still alive when Jason and I came over."

"So you also probably remember what they used to say about him...?"

I bit my lip, nodding softly. Evie had referred to him as_ a bit funny. _It had confused me at the time because I'd thought him more sad than anything else. "I do."

Sam sighed. "He wasn't always like that, you know. The war changed him. It changed a lot of them. That's the thing that people tend to lose sight of. One day the Nazis will be gone. I believe that... I _have_ to believe that. But it's impossible to gauge the damage done – on the Jasons of this world and the people like us that got left behind. I mean look at Amelia. Look at you and Bill. Barry, Stan and Isabel. And I _know_ that more happened to Pam than she will ever let on..."

I felt his eyes on me and I stiffened slightly, keeping my gaze firmly forward, watching the rough patterns the waves were making as they crashed against the harbour below.

He sighed morosely. "None of us will get through this unscathed and I hate them for that."

I turned to him and met his eye for a moment, before we both erupted into fits of giggles.

"Bloody hell," he wheezed, running his hand through his slightly over-long hair. "We make a cheerful bunch, don't we?"

"Yeah, maybe we can crash a funeral for our next date—" I said, my voice dropping off as I realised what I had just said.

"So there will be another one then?" Sam teased.

My thoughts flashed to Eric. Again. Is this where I really saw myself taking this? Having a relationship with Sam while Eric watched on in the shadows? Is this why fate had brought him back to Jersey? Did I even believe in fate?

I didn't know what I believed in any more.

"I, uh..." I'd almost forgotten what we were talking about and could feel myself flushing red.

Sam chuckled. "Don't panic, cher. I was just joking..."

"Sam, I—"

"How about we get moving, ay?" he interrupted, clearly avoiding any protestations or excuses he felt sure were about to materialise from my lips. "We're out of soup and I'm starting to lose feeling in my toes."

I smiled, genuinely, grateful for the reprieve. "Good idea."

"I'll walk you back to the farm."

"Sam, you don't have to do that."

He rolled his eyes. "You know I do, Sook. I'm not quite ready to let you go just yet. And besides I ran out of tea months ago and I know you've got some."

I laughed, and suddenly it was easy again. Always so easy with Sam. "Tea, I can do."

Sam and I chatted aimlessly on the walk back. Just small talk about people we knew, nothing too deep. I picked Rose up on the way back to the cottage, purposely ignoring Evie's pointed look as she handed her over. When we got home, I called Barry down from upstairs, lighting the kitchen fire and making us all a pot of tea.

We laughed and joked comfortably like we always did. I knew that Barry enjoyed Sam being there, not just for someone male to talk with, but for some variety. I sometimes forgot how stir crazy he must get, being trapped in the house with only Rose and me for company. He complained very little though: I guess the alternative was so much worse, it felt a little redundant to do so.

After an hour or so, Sam stood up from the kitchen table. "Well, it's getting late," he said, although I could sense some reluctance in his voice. "I guess I should be going home."

I stood up with him, my natural hostess instincts kicking in before it suddenly dawned on me that we'd reached the end of our date. "I, um... thanks for everything today," I said awkwardly, glancing at Barry, who watching us both from his seated vantage point with undisguised glee glinting in his dark eyes.

"No, thank you Sook. Thanks for the soup... and the tea. Um..."

"You're welcome. For the tea, I mean," I mumbled, feeling myself start to colour. "And the soup, of course."

Sam turned to Barry, hitting him with more of a glare than I would have ever thought him capable. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to hold in my laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Barry got the message however, scooping Rose off the kitchen rug. "I think this little one needs changing," he offered with a knowing grin. Knowing, both in the sense of what was going on and also due the fact that it would be a cold day in hell before I ever got him to change one of Rose's nappies and we all knew it.

I watched him leave the kitchen and then turned to Sam with a grin, gesturing with my arm towards the hallway. "I'll see you out."

Sam nodded, following me to the front door, pulling on his coat and scarf when I handed them to him. I let him out onto the front step, bracing myself as the quick gush of cold air swept into the hallway. Sam turned back to me and I curled myself around the edge of the front door like a barnacle.

"I had a great time today," he murmured, inching a step closer, leaning in towards me, when it became clear that I was staying put. "And I'd really like to do it again."

I tried to smile, I really did, but the memory of Eric standing on the doorstep just this afternoon swept over me in such a rush, it came out as more of a grimace. It didn't matter though as Sam edged towards me, too close to see, making up the distance between us.

It was instinctive. I didn't even realise that I'd squirmed away from his kiss until I felt his lips brush against my hairline. I froze, my body stiff as my fingers curled tightly, painfully, over the cold doorknob.

"Sookie?" he questioned. His body stayed in place, leant awkwardly towards me, but he pulled his neck back, tilting his head to one side.

Warily, I lifted my eyes to meet his; his expression mirrored the rejection and confusion I could hear in his voice.

"I, uh..."

"I'm sorry, I thought..." Sam frowned noting my expression, which I could only imagine was one of immense panic and confusion. Taking a step back, he ran his hand frustratedly through his hair.

"It's complicated," I said softly, looking away. It shouldn't have been. We'd had a lovely afternoon. I should have wanted to kiss him. But I didn't.

He sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly, and I knew he was trying to hold in his temper. "Not for me, it isn't."

"You said we could go slow," I whispered my excuse. A lie. Slow or fast: that had nothing to do with anything. "I'm sorry."

Sam's shoulders relaxed. "I did," he breathed. "And now I'm pushing. Shit. It's my fault. It's just that, well, I had a good time today and I thought you did too."

I nodded shyly. "I did. I promise."

He smiled, relieved. And I felt guilt bubble in my stomach. "Good."

A gust of frigid wind swept over us, making me shiver.

"You should get inside," he said kindly, pulling up the lapels of his coat to guard against the chill. "I'll see you at work on Wednesday, okay?"

I nodded, trying to muster some enthuse. "Goodbye Sam. Thanks for today."

"Good bye, Sookie. Take care."

**Eric - January 1944**

Leaving my motorcycle a short distance down the lane, I walked the rest of the way to the Broadway Farm. I'd arranged with Elsa to leave her bedroom light on and the curtains open, so there was at least a modicum of light guiding me up the path, although not as much as I would have liked. The feeling of not having all my senses at their optimum level only exacerbated the anxiousness that had been pooling in my stomach all day. My initial reunion with Sookie had not gone the way I had planned; after all that I'd done to get back to Jersey, I was determined not to fuck it up a second time.

She was already waiting for me, sat on a crate and leaning up against Copley's workbench, when I arrived at ten on the dot. The shed was softly illuminated by the halogen lamp that Tray and I had hooked up when we used to played cards there. That seemed like an age ago, aeons of water under the bridge. But then she heard my footsteps approaching, her eyes whipping up to meet my mine, and suddenly it was like yesterday.

She was wrapped up warm in her dark winter coat. The rouge and fancy hat from earlier were gone though, her golden curls piled up messily and secured with a deep red scarf. She looked natural, beautiful, and my heart constricted at how good it was to see her.

"Hi," she said tentatively, standing up and brushing down her coat. She took a step forward as if she were going to approach me (to hug me? shake my hand?) but then seemed to think better of it, glancing down at her feet as if instructing them to stay put.

"Hello Sookie," I said gently, taking a step towards her: close enough that if we both extended our arms, our fingers would touch. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms, but I didn't. I was suddenly uneasy, unsure what the correct approach would be considering her reaction this morning. "Thank you for seeing me."

"How long have you been back?" She whispered, looking down, finding a little pile of sawdust on the bench and sweeping it to the floor with her hand.

"Three days... I came to see you as soon as I could get away," I added.

"And you're staying at the Bellefleurs?" she asked politely.

I nodded. "After what happened... I didn't think the farm was a good bet."

"Why are you here Eric?" Her tone wasn't rude or unkind, just a little defeated. She exhaled heavily. "Why did you even come back?"

"I wanted to see you," I shrugged. Wasn't it obvious? "You and Rose."

"You left us, Eric." She closed her eyes as if remembering, reliving, the pain of that and I could feel my throat thicken with shame. "You've been gone for over a year."

"I know."

"And now you just want back into our lives?" I could hear distress in her voice, the pitch rising.

"Yes," I said simply. I edged towards her, my hands flailing uselessly by my sides. If I couldn't touch her, I wanted to make her look at me. Really look at me. "I know I can't make it up to you but I want the chance to try. If you'll let me."

"Eric, you just can't—" Whatever she was going to say was lost as a huge sob erupted from her, startling me. She looked up at me, shaking her head, eyes brimming with angry tears. "You just can't..."

This time I ignored my instincts for reserve and marched towards her, gathering her into my embrace and wrapping my arms tightly around her. She stiffened at first, her hands against my chest, and then after a moment just melted into me, sobbing against my shoulder.

We stayed like that for a while as I just held her, enjoying having her in my arms, even in such a state of disquiet. After a moment I manoeuvred us around, sitting down on the crate and pulling her into my lap.

"I'm sorry," I soothed, stroking her forehead as she shuddered against me and brushing an escaped curl from her brow as I had done to Rose earlier in the day. "I should never have left. I was so hurt that you'd ended things. You blamed me for Bill and it hurt so much. At the time I thought it was the best thing. For us both. But I should never have left."

As her breathing evened out she eased herself away from my chest, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. My arms stayed draped around her waist and I noted with pleasure that she made no effort to move them.

"How did you get back?" she whispered after a moment. "I thought your father..."

"Well, he wasn't happy. In fact he still wasn't talking to me when I left. But there was an opening after Andre died," I explained, leaving out details of the deal that I may or may not have done with the devil. I also didn't mention that my father had stooped as low as possible, involving Ingrid in his plans to make me stay in Berlin. Tray aside, by the time I left, I was glad to be done with whole verminous lot of them.

"They needed someone with experience on Jersey. Andre's replacement, General Madden, is a real Party man. He's risen pretty swiftly through the ranks and has a few victories in the East under his belt, but I don't know how much actual experience he has at this kind of stuff."

She nodded, running her fingers carelessly over the heavy wool of my lapel. "We heard what was happening in Berlin. I was worried that you might have been hurt."

I didn't want to talk about Berlin. It was an incendiary topic if ever there was one. Neither of us needed reminding that we were on opposite sides of this conflict. "I'm fine," I murmured, running my lips across her hairline.

She looked up at me, slightly startled by the contact. "I'm glad," she whispered eventually, a tiny blush dancing across her skin.

"I saw Tray," I ventured, changing the subject, distracting her before she felt uncomfortable.

Sookie's eyes lit up in pleasure. "He's okay?"

"He's alive. Injured, but he'll be okay."

I don't know why I didn't mention his leg. Maybe it was because she had a genuine smile on her face, and I didn't want to be the one to chase it away? Maybe it was for Tray? He'd never see Amelia again, and although he had made his peace with what had happened to him, I knew that, if pressed, he'd rather her remember him as he was. Whole. And I could understand that.

"Wow. That's great news. You saw him a lot?" she asked eagerly.

"He was in a military hospital just outside the city so I got to visit him a few times. He'll be heading back to Bavaria soon enough. Back to his mother's cooking, who by all accounts would give Evie a run for her money in the kitchen department."

"That's good. I'm pleased for him."

We lapsed into silence for a moment. She shifted on my lap and I tried to block out the feeling of her as she brushed against my cock. She was already skittish; I didn't want to make it worse.

"Sookie—" I begun, not sure what I was going to say but feeling like my window of opportunity was slowly evaporating.

"Sam and I were talking today about Jason," she said softly, interrupting me. "About how it's been so long that I can barely remember some things about him any more. His smell for instance. You know how everyone has their own smell?"

I nodded, trying not to react at the mention of Sam. Is that where she had been going today? To meet him? I felt nauseous at the thought.

"I don't remember it. Jason's I mean. I could tell you lots of things about the scrapes we had together as kids, even before we came to Jersey, but I have to really focus to remember what his hands looked like. Little details like that."

I shrugged, not sure where she was going with this exactly. "It's natural. The longer you are parted from someone... I didn't see her for a while before she died but there are bits of my mother already—"

"No, that's just it," she sighed, glancing up at me. "Jason's my brother, I've known him my whole life and I'm starting to forget some of the details. But _you_, you were gone for a year and I still remembered everything. Your smell, your laugh, your hands, how it felt to kiss you. It didn't go away." She looked away sadly. "I'm not sure if it ever will."

I pulled her closer to me, revelling in the smell of her hair. There was a faint lingering of perfume, something floral that I didn't know, but under that was a smell that was unmistakeably Sookie. I hadn't forgotten either. Any of it. "I know what you mean. I honestly do."

She nodded, sinking back against my chest. "And then there's Rose, you know. She's like a constant living breathing reminder of everything we've been through. Sometimes we'll just be playing or she'll be eating or anything really, and she'll do something that is so incredibly _you_, that it just floors me. Like a punch in the gut. I feel so scared sometimes that someone will notice the resemblance, but no one ever has..."

"Shhh," I soothed, feeling her tense up. "Rose is safe, Sookie. Bill saw to that."

"But with you being back? She's growing up Eric. At some point, someone will see you together and put two and two together..."

"We'll be careful," I assured her, rubbing my hands over her arms to comfort her. "I would never have come back if I thought it would put either of you in any increased danger. I just want to be part of your lives again."

Sookie shook her head agitatedly. "And what about Rose herself? How do we explain you to her? How do we not confuse her? She's learning to speak. How do we stop her giving the secret away?"

I sighed. "We'll work it out. We always do."

She leant back in my lap, her eyes holding my gaze. "But do we? So far this relationship has caused us both a whole lot of heartache. I hated that you left. And I missed you every day that you were gone. But nothing has actually changed, has it? I still can't see a way for us to be together without hurting ourselves and the people we care about."

"Sookie," I protested, trying to pull her back to me, but it was too late. I could feel it in her body, as if her natural determination and stubbornness had manifested themselves physically.

"I need to get up," she sighed, pushing against my chest as she got to her feet. "I can't do this. It's not fair to either of us."

I got up with her, reaching out for her hand, her fingers sifting through mine as she pulled away. "Sookie, please. Don't do this. I came back for you. For Rose."

She shook her head. Her voice was barely a whisper but it cut through me like a knife. "You shouldn't have."

"You don't mean that," I said desperately, taking a step towards her.

Her eyes met mine, for a moment, and they were full of anguish. "You know I've started seeing someone. Sam. I've started seeing Sam. He's a good man Eric, and he cares for me. I think he can make me happy..."

She sounded like she was trying to convince herself as well as me but still, jealousy and denial swept over me, almost knocking me over.

"I don't care. I know you still love me," I pressed. My voice was cracking, filled with a myriad of emotions. "Don't tell me that you haven't felt dead inside this past year, like you've just got to keep moving or you'll stop existing altogether. That's how it's been for me. I know you feel it too. You have to."

She looked away and I studied her face, watching a tear as it ran down her cheek. "I do," she rasped. "But—"

"I came back for you, Sookie," I urged. "I want you. I never stopped wanting you."

I could see the confusion in her face and felt determination rise within me. Before I knew what I was doing, I was striding towards her, her face was in my hands and my lips were on hers. It wasn't the gentle kiss I had envisaged we would have when I first saw her again. It was proprietary, brutal, reminding her who we were to each other, the inevitability and the fruitlessness in trying to fight it. She struggled against me for a moment and then gave in, clawing me to her, pulling me closer still and forcing her tongue into my mouth.

"No," she breathed into my mouth suddenly, pulling back. Her hands, which had just been tugging at my hair, moved against my shoulders, pushing me, hard, as I tried to re-instigate the kiss.

"No, Eric," she sputtered harshly. The tone of her voice, rather than the strength of her shove, causing me to stumble backwards, slightly dazed.

"No," she repeated, her face twisted with suffering, backing away from me. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

I barely formed the words, begging her to stay, to talk it over, when she was gone. Disappearing out into the darkness.

0-0-0-0-0

I frowned at the polite knock at the door. My new commanding officer, General Madden, had disliked Corporal Schmidt on sight due to his long association with Andre and discharged him ruthlessly from his duties on the first afternoon. So somehow I had inherited my own minion. Schmidt was attending to me with the same slavish efficiency that had characterised his relationship with the dead Colonel, and it was driving me crazy. Even his knock was a source of irritation.

On the plus side, it seemed Mott had also fallen out of favour too. _Every cloud_, as my mother used to say.

I shouted irritatedly at Schmidt to enter and the large oak door creaked open. He slipped in and saluted obsequiously.

"What is it?" I snapped. "I was under the impression that I had told you not to disturb me?" I wasn't normally quite such a tyrant but I'd had very little sleep last night, on top of half a bottle of brandy, after my encounter with Sookie. My head was throbbing and I was in no mood for company.

Schmidt winced slightly, his boyish features turning a ruddy colour. "You did sir. No one allowed in, even Nurse Ludwig."

"So?"

"Well, there's a Mrs. Compton here to see you," he explained, eyeing me with well-advised caution. "She insisted that she had an appointment, even though it's not in the book, and that you wanted to see her. I thought I should check."

I felt the wind rush out of my lungs. _Sookie?_ Was here? She was taking an awful risk.

I realised that the Corporal was watching me, expecting an answer. I nodded pensively. "She does have an appointment... to discuss the produce arrangements from the Broadway Farm. I was sure that I passed this on to you."

"Uh..." Schmidt shifted nervously. He never made mistakes: we both knew that.

"Never mind," I added. "You can show her in."

He nodded, clearly relieved that he had made the right call.

"And Corporal. Make sure that no one, and I mean _no one_, disturbs us. Or you'll be digging fences on Aldernay so fast, you'll have whiplash. Am I understood?"

Schmidt saluted at me, grateful to be dismissed. "Yes sir."

As he left, I got up from behind the desk, pacing slightly. Sookie was here. What did she want? I made my way to the drinks cabinet, pouring myself a brandy. Moments later there was a gentle knock at the door and Sookie entered, closing the door swiftly behind her.

"Hello Eric," she said meekly, shrugging her shoulders, a tiny smile playing at her lips.

I noted gratefully that she didn't seem to be alarmed or angry, and gestured to the decanter with my head. "Drink?"

She nodded. "Please."

I poured her a measure and walked over to her, handing her the crystal tumbler. "This is a surprise," I said gently. My eyes raked over her. She had that tiny crease on her brow that signified that she was a little tired but her cheeks and eyes were brightened by the cold air outside, making her look fresh and lovely, divine. "A good one. But a surprise nonetheless."

She took a sip of her brandy, her eyes flitting curiously about my office. It wasn't quite as grand as Andre's old room, Viktor had nabbed that one, but it was a nice space. I even had a slither of sunlight fighting its way in over the sandbags that blocked my window.

"I wanted to see you," she began, after a pause. She looked up at me and smiled nervously. "After last night, I _had_ to see you... to apologise, for being such a lunatic. With the mixed signals and all. It's just that I didn't think you were coming back. Ever... All this has taken me a bit by surprise."

I shook my head, feeling the relief seep into my bones. She really wasn't here to fight. "I understand that. And it's me who should be sorry. I hardly slept last night thinking about what happened. I pushed too hard and I had no right. I just turned up on your doorstep and expected nothing to have changed... Look, I just want to be in your life. In any capacity you'll have me. Friends, whatever you want to be. I know that we have to think about Rose but I just want to know her. To know you both."

"I spent all night thinking too. About what a shock it was seeing you, after all this time. So much has been going on that I needed you for... I was scared and I was angry. I still am." The corner of her mouth cocked up in an irreverent smile, like that was nothing new. "But I know that I can't be friends with you, Eric. It doesn't work."

I felt my stomach plummet, the brandy suddenly acidic, burning a hole in my guts. "Sookie, I'm sorry. I really am," I appealed, feeling helpless. "Whatever your terms are, I'll accept them, okay? Just don't cut me out. Please?"

Her smile changed now, coy and calm. How could she be smiling while she was tearing my heart into pieces? I nearly flinched when I felt her fingers brush my forearm. "No, you don't understand, Eric. I'm tired of doing what is right. It's too hard. You've only been back a few days and it's already just too hard... You're right, I want you. I want you like you want me. I always have."

I felt my breathing hitch, maybe it stopped, I don't know, as her fingers stroked my face, cupping my jaw.

"And Sam?" I almost growled his name.

"He's the sensible option but he'll never be what I want. I realise that now." She sighed and her words came out in a tremble. "I'm tired of fighting it, Eric. All the sensible reasons in my head, they just disappear when I think about what I feel for you. I'm tired. I missed you so much. I just want us to be together. I'm tired of always regretting the one thing that I want the most."

I didn't wait for her to change her mind. My mouth crashed into hers, as we devoured each other with lips and tongue. Never losing contact, I walked her against my desk, running my hands over her behind and lifting her slightly until she was perched on the edge of it. I grasped the hem of her skirt, sliding it up her thighs as she opened them allowing me to get closer. We clawed at each other, rough and feverish, pulling at zips and buttons, teasing with fingers and teeth, freeing each other just enough, until I entered her in one hard stroke.

"I love you," she breathed, pulling me down to kiss her again. I could taste the brandy on her tongue as she pushed it into my mouth.

"I love you. So fucking much," I gasped, pulling away for air, and starting to move, with force, over her, inside her.

Papers began to fly off the desk as I rammed into her over and over again, claiming her with every stroke. I couldn't be gentle after so long away from her, but she was revelling in it too, biting on her lip to stifle her cries. I felt my release begin to build as she dug her heels into my behind, spurring me on. I could feel myself coming undone as I reached in between us, massaging her clit with the pad of my thumb. Her back arched off the desk as she let out a silent scream, her orgasm shattering through her. Seconds later, I withdrew, releasing over her stomach and collapsing onto her with a quiet groan.

With a final, gentle kiss to her lips, I pulled her up, flushed and panting, into a sitting position. We were still joined, her legs wrapped around my waist, clothes in disarray.

"No more regrets?" I whispered in her ear, scraping my teeth over her lobe.

Her eyes met mine, full of emotion, as she put her hand on my chest, over my heart. "No more regrets."

**A/N: As always I'd love to hear your thoughts...**


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